


what have we done (can i be undone?)

by raspberryswirl (pinktrixie)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (sort of), Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21652405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinktrixie/pseuds/raspberryswirl
Summary: in the midst of the hogwarts repairs, hermione granger comes across the absolute last person she expected to see.xxbellatrix black wakes up to hogwarts in ruin and the year is certainly not 1968.xxrewrite of refuse to be (so wicked)
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 53
Kudos: 373





	1. daylight savings won't fix this mess

**Author's Note:**

> rewrite of refuse bc i wrote myself into a corner. there are similarities to the first chapter of refuse, but it is a different chapter. 
> 
> title from florence and the machine's "seven devils"

_chapter one._

_daylight savings won’t fix this mess_

Bellatrix Black woke with a start, breath barely reaching her lungs as she gasped for air. Her hands clawed at her neck and her eyes bulged. She twisted wildly, her legs catching in her sheets as she thrashed around. 

After what felt like an hour, she settled back against the bed. 

_Must have been some Quidditch party_ , she thought wryly, staring up at the green canopy above her bed. Her whole body ached painfully, particularly her left side, where the younger Winickus brother had accidentally redirected a bludger into her. She pushed herself into a sitting position. She’d just have to convince Andy to give her one of the good headache potions and maybe patch up her ribs. 

Something tugged at the back of her mind, an oppressive darkness that must have been what woke her up in such a way. She scrubbed a hand over her face, eventually pulling at some of her more unruly curls that had broken free from her braid. 

Pushing open her curtains, she glanced around the seventh year dormitory, which was strangely empty. There weren’t any trunks or posters. Not even Beth’s annoyingly cloying perfume hung in the air. It was just...empty. 

Bellatrix dove to the ground, searching for her belongings, but there was nothing there. 

Desperate, she shoved a hand under her pillow in search of her wand. She sighed in relief as the cool walnut met her fingers. Biting back a vicious curse, she stormed out of the room, ready to tear into whatever idiot messed with her belongings. 

But the staircase was quiet and clean. Not at all how it should be after winning the Cup. Last night there had been streamers and butterbeer bottles and snogging couples. Now it was just abandoned. 

Her heart pounded uncomfortably in her throat as she emerged into the common room. 

“Alright, you filthy muggle-lovers, what have you…” Bellatrix’s voice faded away as she stared at the empty room. Like the staircases, it was completely abandoned. There was no trace of anybody. In fact, it seemed like how the common room looked at the beginning of term. But it was May. 

Her wand now drawn, she tore back up the stairs, first to the third year dormitory in search of Narcissa. If whoever had pulled this stunt had touched either of her sisters, she would flay them alive, without magic. But it was empty. The beds were turned up, the pillows all stacked in one corner. 

“Cissy!” She screamed, her voice breaking with the anxiety of her missing sister.

She checked every corner of the room before moving up to the fifth floor. 

“Andy! Andromeda! This isn’t funny anymore!” 

With a long string of curses, she burst back into the common room. She would just go to breakfast and then hex whoever had done this into the next millennium. 

Casting a cursory glance around the empty common room, Bellatrix shook her head and left the Slytherin common room. 

As the door slammed shut behind her, a newspaper fluttered down from one of the bookcases. 

**_LORD VOLDEMORT DEAD; HARRY POTTER VICTORIOUS_ **

Bellatrix practically sprinted up the narrow staircases that led to the Great Hall. The air was heavy with dust and magic; it crackled at her skin. It felt both unnatural and strangely familiar. 

When she finally reached the Entrance Hall, her mouth fell open. 

It was in ruins. Large parts of the ceiling lay broken on the ground and there was a dark smear that looked awfully like blood across the floor. 

“What in Merlin’s name…” She trailed off as she saw a girl about her age emerge from behind one of the pieces of masonry. Her wand was in the air, directing a series of bricks back into the entryway. Bellatrix’s fingers curled around her own wand as she watched the girl. She didn’t even look vaguely familiar, but Bellatrix felt drawn to her. 

Bellatrix’s foot caught on a bit of loose rock, causing the stone to clatter across the floor noisily. 

The girl spun around sharply, her wand posed for dueling. Her eyes fell on Bellatrix and her mouth fell open. “Who are you? How did you get in here?” The girl’s wand remained firmly pointed at Bellatrix as she advanced on her, stepping deftly over the various chunks of rock. 

Bellatrix, in response, raised her own wand, ready to jinx the girl if need be. 

The other girl’s eyes flitted down to Bellatrix’s wand and her mouth fell open. “You!” 

She brandished her wand violently at Bellatrix. If not for her Quidditch instincts, Bellatrix might have been another dark smear on the floor as a large piece of rock flew past where her head had been. “You are supposed to be,” the girl shot a fast series of stunners towards where Bellatrix lay, “dead!” she spat the last word along with a purple jet of light. 

Bellatrix rolled to the side and threw up a shield. The spell glanced off into the wall behind her. The girl continued to throw curses at her, steadily advancing on her. Bellatrix, still disoriented by the state of the entrance hall, maintained a shield in front of her.

She swiped a hand across her eyes as dust continuously fell into them, partially blinding her. 

Bellatrix came to her senses as a stunner nearly grazed her cheek. She narrowed her eyes and surged forward, casting a series of curses back at the other witch. “Who in Merlin’s name are you?” 

The other witch was prodigious, nearly a match to Bellatrix’s own skill. The two witches exchanged curses until a particularly tricky bit of skill work ended with Bellatrix on the ground, her wand in the other girl’s hand. 

“Get up.” The other girl jerked her wand at her violently. “I said, get up.” Bellatrix slowly stood to her feet, not too fond of the dark glint in the brunette’s eye. “ _Incarcerous._ ” 

“What are you doing? Do you know who I am?” Bellatrix struggled against the thin ropes cutting into her wrists. The other girl shoved her forward, her wand pressed between Bellatrix’s shoulder blades. 

“Unfortunately, yes, I do. Now move. We’ll go speak with McGonagall. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you.” The other girl gripped her shoulder and dug her wand into Bellatrix’s back. Bellatrix hesitated for a moment before moving forward in the direction the girl pushed her. The pair walked in silence until Bellatrix made to turn towards the transfiguration classroom. The other girl let out a hiss and forced her the other way. 

“You said McGonagall, right?” 

“Yes.” 

“We’re going the wrong way.” 

“No, we aren’t.” 

“Do you even attend Hogwarts?” 

“I did.” 

“Past tense? When did you graduate?” 

“Just shut up, okay?”

Bellatrix shrugged her shoulder, ignoring the pain shooting up her ribcage. “Whatever you want.” 

The other girl led her through the hallways, which looked as if it had been ravaged by war. They came to a stop in front of the headmaster’s office, guarded by a gargoyle missing its beak. The other girl moved in front of Bellatrix, one hand still resting on Bellatrix’s shoulder. Bellatrix took the opportunity to study her captor more closely. 

She was slightly taller than Bellatrix in height, but of a similar slim build. Her hair looked like it needed a good smoothing potion, but was otherwise a pretty brown color. Bellatrix traced down the girl’s outstretched arm on her shoulder.

_Mudblood_

A chill passed down Bellatrix’s spine as she studied the word. It had been carved into her skin, still pink and scabbing at points. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the girl. Was she a mudblood? But she had been such a talented duelist. Her magic had overpowered Bellatrix. That couldn’t be. 

The letters looked so familiar. 

Why did they look...so… But then she was fading away. There was black forming around the edges of her vision. She was falling. She was falling. She was falling.

xx 

_Bellatrix screamed. She screamed until her voice gave out. She screamed for her master, for her sister, for the deaths of her enemies. She cursed that fucking Weasley who had hit her. She cursed the Potter boy and his inability to die._

_She sobbed. Tears coursed down her cheeks. She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried._

_That was a lie._

_She knew when the last time she had cried had been. It had been as she held Cissy when a letter arrived from her middle sister, announcing her marriage to that filthy mudblood. After that, she had forsworn tears. She would not shed tears over anybody else._

_And yet here she was, surrounded by darkness, sobbing._

_“Child.” The voice held the multitudes of the universe in it. It was timeless and ancient and it made Bellatrix want to claw her skin off. “Welcome.”_

_She tried to twist around to look at her surroundings but found herself frozen in place._

_A figure emerged from the crushing darkness, a woman, but it was almost painful to look too closely at her face._

_Bellatrix hissed, but it was not in anger but in fear. “Where am I?”_

_The ensuing chuckle felt as if it could level civilizations. “That depends I suppose, child. Do you follow a religion?”_

_“I know of the Old Gods and of those worshipped by foolish muggles.”_

_“All are close in their approximation of what happens next. But none are fully correct.”_

_“What am I doing here then? I’m dead.”_

_“I have long been curious about you, Bellatrix Agrippa Black. I have watched you since you were born. When you and your mother almost perished. I watched as you fought and dragged yourself back into the world of the living. Your cheeks turned pink and you wailed and I was intrigued. Your name. Bellatrix. The female warrior. You are at your core, a fighter. I have watched as you have fought through every moment of your life.”_

_The woman brushed a few fingers across Bellatrix’s cheek, her touch somehow burning and freezing at once._

_A press of images overwhelmed Bellatrix, her eyes rolling back into her head._

_“You fought to protect your sisters from the dangers of your father, from the darkness of your mother.”_

_Narcissa, aged five, braided daisies into Bellatrix’s dark hair while Andy wove crowns of flowers for them._

_Andromeda, her face smiling and so similar to Bellatrix’s own. The pair of them curled in one bed, giggling, whispering secrets._

_“You fought to prove yourself.”_

_The rapid-fire images of her sorting, her first Quidditch cup, her dueling championships._

_The images disappeared as a voice she had not heard in many years said, “You could be brilliant, Bellatrix, but you must choose your own path. Do not allow others to control your destiny.”_

_“Of course not, Professor McGonagall.”_

_“If you do not wish to go through with this wedding, you will always have a place with me.”_

_A warm smile, a cup of tea._

_Then pain._

_“You fought to save yourself from pain, even though it meant throwing yourself into the fire.”_

_The burn of the dark mark. Her Lord’s hissed words of praise._

_But then, Rodolphus’ face looming over her. She tried to scream but there was no sound._

_“But in your fight for survival, you have lost your soul.”_

_Bellatrix’s eyes were forced open and she found the woman so close to her face she ought to have been able to feel her breath, but there was no air._

_“I have lost nothing, but my Lord!” Bellatrix spat out, her hands curling into fists at her side._

_That laugh came again and Bellatrix wanted to curl into a ball._

_“You have lost everything. But fret not, child. Of all those who have died today, you shall be the only one to receive a second chance.”_

_“To stand by my master.” She stated._

_Something hissed across her cheek, leaving pain in its wake. “Foolish child. You will have a chance to redeem yourself. You have left a scar across your world. And you will repair it.”_

_“I did my best to serve my Lord! I will not apologize for that! Release me!”_

_Something gripped her head tightly as if it were pressing her further into the darkness. “You will return but it will not be as you currently are. I will return you to before you were tainted, but you will not forget what you have done. You will live with the weight of your actions.”_

_The darkness pressed down upon her, forcing her back into nothingness._

xx 

“How could she be here, Professor?” Hermione asked, wringing her hands in her lap. “We all saw her die. I saw them bury her body. She was gone.” 

Her gaze remained fixed on the girl lying prone on a hospital bed, her dark hair spilled across the pillow. The face was the same in structure as the one that haunted her dreams, but it was the youthfulness that was throwing Hermione. She looked innocent, harmless, nothing like the dark witch that had died barely a week ago. 

“I’m not sure, Miss Granger.” 

She cast a glance to her professor, who looked stricken. “Time turner accident?” 

“It is possible, I suppose. But I don’t know where she could’ve gotten one. If I had to estimate her age, I would say she is from her last year of school, maybe soon after.” 

“Is that before she became a Death Eater or after?” Hermione didn’t even attempt to keep the sneer off her face. She could, for all of her brainpower, not comprehend a Bellatrix Lestrange who was not evil and madness incarnate. “Or was she always evil, Bellatrix Lestrange?” 

The look McGonagall pinned her with would’ve made eleven-year-old Hermione practically burst into tears. It made seventeen-year-old Hermione curl in on herself in shame. 

“At this time in her life, she went by Bella Black, star chaser of the Slytherin Quidditch Team, top of her class, generally known as the brightest witch of her age,” McGonagall cast a meaningful glance towards Hermione as she said the phrase that had followed Hermione since her first year at Hogwarts. “Miss Black graduated with 11 Outstandings on her NEWTs, and then was immediately betrothed to Rodolphus Lestrange and the rest is, as they say, history. The Bella Black I knew was fiercely loyal to her sisters, to a fault. Had a temper and was alone more often than not. She spent a shocking amount of time in the library and was known for having a smart mouth in most of her classes.” 

“Oh,” was all Hermione could manage to say, her chest tight. The image McGonagall painted of a young Bellatrix sounded so achingly familiar, she couldn’t help but wonder what caused that girl to turn into the woman she would become. 

“Yes, very much so. I’m going to consult with my predecessors to see if we can’t come up with a solution for young Miss Black here.” McGonagall stood to her feet, a world-weariness still pressing against her shoulders. “Do send a Patronus if she wakes or anything changes.” 

McGonagall patted Hermione on the shoulder kindly before leaving the hospital wing. 

Hermione redirected her focus back to the dark witch in front of her, studying her still features. 

How could the girl that McGonagall described be here in 1998, 30 years out of time? 

She studied the pair of walnut wands in her hands. At first glance, they were indiscernible, but upon further inspection, or in the hands of someone who knew the wand as well as Hermione did there were noticeable differences. 

For starters, one had taken far more abuse, a result no doubt due to its wielder's many duels. There was one long, thin gouge near the handle, however, that was shared by both wands. 

But far more telling was the feeling that tugged at Hermione as she held the one she had been using. It felt powerful, but a powerful darkness that threatened to overwhelm all else. The other wand felt equally powerful, but without the suppressive darkness. 

This was a wand that had never tortured Neville’s parents to madness. Had never murdered muggles for sport. Had never killed Sirius. Had never caused so much destruction. 

And, Hermione concluded, neither had the girl in front of her. 

But she would, Hermione thought with a shake of her head. This girl would still become Bellatrix Lestrange. She would still do all of those horrible, dark, evil things. 

She was still evil, and Hermione would be damned if she let her upset the new peace that had finally settled in the wizarding world. 


	2. thunder only happens when it's raining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from fleetwood mac's "dreams"

_ chapter two.  _

_ thunder only happens when it’s raining _

“Tea anyone?” McGonagall offered, breaching the silence between the three witches. Hermione was staring fixedly out the window, refusing to glance in Bellatrix’s direction while Bellatrix was fixed on the portraits behind her desk of the headmasters. 

Dumbledore smiled back at her, his half-moon glasses precariously perched on his nose. Bella couldn’t comprehend it. He had been at her Quidditch match the day before. And he had certainly not seemed like he was on the verge of death or retiring. But there was his portrait. 

She had never paid much mind to the portraits of former headmasters. There was, of course, her ancestor Phineas, who also had a portrait in her Aunt Walburga’s house, but there was another younger man on the other side of Dumbledore that seemed vaguely familiar. 

She shifted in her seat as the professor passed her a cup of tea, her body aching painfully. She was no stranger to pain, be it from Quidditch or a visit home, but this felt different. It was as if the very essence of her being was in pain. 

The cup of tea felt wonderful in her hands and she cradled it to her chest. Since her little swooning fit, a bone-chilling cold had lodged itself in her body, not unlike the sensation described in Dementor attacks.

“Feeling any better, Miss Black?” 

“Thank you, Professor. I’m not sure what came over me.” Her gaze slid momentarily to the girl hovering near the window, her arms tight across her chest. “If I may, what happened to the castle? It looks like a warzone.” The flinches of the other two more than answered her question, but still McGonagall pressed on without answering it. 

“All in due time. Now, Miss Black, if you would tell me the date?” 

Bella furrowed her brow, trying to deduce what game the Transfiguration professor was playing. “The date? It’s the 10th of May.”

“The year.” The other girl had a deceptively gentle voice for somebody who hexed first, asked questions later. 

“1968. What is this about? What is going on?” 

McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose for a long moment, exhaling sharply, before saying, “Miss Black, I’m not sure how best to say this….” 

“It’s 1998.” 

Bellatrix’s mouth fell open. “1998…? How? How is this possible?” Bellatrix, despite the pain in her body, shot to her feet. The panic began to roll through her body. “No, no, no.” 

  1. That was thirty years. It was almost the new millennium. That meant… she was nearly 50. 



“H-how? What happened to me? Professor, please. You have to tell me. You have to help me!” 

“Miss Black, I understand this is a lot to take in-” 

“A lot to take in!” She shot to her feet, wishing desperately she at least had her wand on her. “There is certainly a lot to take in. I need to go back. You have to send me back.” 

“Are you in possession of a time-turner?” The girl by the window interjected, her posture defensive as if she expected Bella to attack at any given moment. 

Bellatrix had only ever seen a broken time turner in a drawer of her uncle’s study. But before she could touch it or examine it further, her father had called her away. “No, of course not.” Her mind caught up quickly. “You could just use a time-turner to send me back! If you just send me back to the 10th of May in 1968, there will be no difference. You haven’t told me anything about the future, I haven’t affected anything. I haven’t seen my future self. It’ll be as if this never happened.” 

“All the time-turners were destroyed in the Department of Mysteries two years ago.” 

Bella was really starting to dislike this girl, whoever she was. 

“Who would be dumb enough to destroy the time-turners?” The other two witches shared a knowing look that made her skin tingle. She focused back on McGonagall, she was at the very least a known entity. “Please, Professor, I need to go back. Please.” 

McGonagall’s dark eyes were filled with sympathy as she shook her head. “I’m afraid I have no means of sending you back at this time. If we knew how you arrived here, it might be more obvious. What had you been doing last night?” 

“Were you using dark magic? That might have caused this,” said the girl. 

Bella twisted in her seat to glare at her. “I had just won a bloody Quidditch match and had been celebrating with my house. I certainly wasn’t practicing dark magic, what are you, dumb?” She all but snarled. She was sick of this girl. First she tied her up, then she accused her of dark magic. 

It wasn’t as if Bella hadn’t been exposed to dark magic. It practically oozed out of the walls at some of her family homes. But she wasn’t dumb enough to practice it at school. Many of her Slytherin housemates may have dabbled at Hogwarts, but more often than not they were quickly caught and punished. 

“Girls!” McGonagall’s sharp tone cut off the other girl’s response and she raised her hands to surrender. 

“Sorry, professor, but dark magic is certainly a possibility, you know, given everything that’s happened and who is involved.” 

Bella’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “And what do you mean by that?” 

“Nothing, nothing at all.” 

“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting, given that your first greeting was to hex me for no good reason. Where are my manners,” she sneered, “I am Bellatrix Black, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Who are you?” 

“None of your business if you’d like to go back to your time.” 

The other girl smirked as Bella flinched. She couldn't be trapped in this time. She needed to get back. She would just have to keep her temper in check, something made easier by the loss of her wand. 

“Can I at least have my wand back?” She asked, facing McGonagall once more. 

“I don’t see why not. Miss Granger?” 

Granger, her mouth agape, remained frozen by the window. “Professor, you can’t seriously mean to give her her wand back. Have you gone mad?” 

“Miss Granger!” 

“I only mean, Professor, are you sure?” Granger backtracked, her cheeks flushed. 

She’s rather pretty, Bella thought absently, with her cheeks all flushed and glowing. But she quickly stamped down the thought. 

With a sigh, Granger handed Bella her wand, their fingers brushing in the process. There was a spark of electricity between them, but neither girl acknowledged it. 

“Miss Granger, if you wouldn’t mind heading down to the kitchens and letting Winky know we have another guest in the castle at the moment, I would be greatly obliged.” 

Granger nodded stiffly, then paused, narrowing her eyes at Bella. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, Professor?” 

“Certainly.” McGonagall’s tone brooked no further discussion and Bella suppressed a grin as Granger shuffled out like a dog with its tail between its legs. “Now, Miss Black,” she began as the door shut behind Granger. “You will have to forgive us. You have come in a difficult time.” 

“You don’t bloody say,” muttered Bella under her breath. 

“As I was saying, it is a difficult time. As you noticed, the castle is under repair and things are not the most stable.” 

“Couldn’t we just find my future self? I’m sure she, or I suppose, I know how to send me back.” A shadow passed across McGonagall’s face. Something pulled painfully at the pit of her stomach. “I’m dead, aren’t I? I’m not even fifty and I’m dead.” McGonagall made no move to confirm or deny. “How?” She finally croaked after a long beat. 

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you much of what’s going on until we know what has happened to you. I can’t in good conscience allow you to alter the past or the future, Miss Black.” 

“Do you think I want to be here?” Bella snarled, her fingers itching for her wand. “I didn’t ask to be sent here. Just tell me what happened to me. What happened to my family. Where are my sisters?” 

“I’m sorry, Bellatrix. I can’t. Are you hungry?” 

Bella blinked at the older woman, baffled by the sudden change in topic. “What?” 

“I asked if you were hungry or not. Winky makes a fabulous stuffed chicken.” 

“I’m stranded thirty years in the future. A future where I’m already dead and you’re talking about chicken?” Bella tugged at her braid, suddenly distinctly aware that she was still in her pyjamas from the night before. “Professor, please. I need to go back. It’s imperative that I’m in 1968 for my graduation. It’s not just for me, but for my sisters’ sake.” 

“I can promise you your sisters are, well,” McGonagall hesitated and that shadow returned to her face. “They are as fine as can be expected.” 

“Where are they then? Surely it can’t hurt for me to at least see them.” 

“I’m afraid that wouldn’t be possible.” 

“Why not? They’re in the future, it wouldn’t affect the past. I just need to know that they’re okay.” Bella fought the tears that pricked at the corner of her eyes, frustrated with her teacher and the events of the day. 

McGonagall moved to pat Bella on the hand, but ultimately thought better of it. 

“It wouldn’t affect the past, but it would affect them at this delicate moment.” 

“I know Cissy can be a bit emotional and I’m sure she hasn’t exactly grown out of that, but Andromeda is level-headed to a fault. At least let me speak with Andy,” she pleaded. She needed Andy’s logic and balance. She needed her sister to tell her everything would be okay. 

“Bella, stop. I can’t let you speak to either of your sisters. I’m sorry.” 

Why wouldn’t McGonagall let her see her sisters? What could have happened to them? “Are they dead as well?” 

“No, they are both in good health as far as I know.” 

“Well, if they aren’t dead, and I am, wouldn’t they want to see me once more?” 

“I will not put them through that if I can avoid it.” 

“Fine.” Bellatrix stood to her feet, frustrated with the circular conversation. “If that’s all, I’ll be heading off to bed.” 

“I think that would be best. Allow me to show you to the Gryffindor common room.” 

Bella blanched. “Gryffindor?” 

“Yes, much of the castle is in disarray and that is where Miss Granger is staying. So that is where you will stay.” McGonagall motioned for Bella to follow her without much room for argument. 

As they walked through the castle, Bella couldn't help but stare at the partially repaired damage. There were gaping holes in the ceiling where starlight poured through and the staircases crumbled away into nothingness at certain points. 

And was that blood? Bella wrinkled her nose as they passed by a dark smear of red on a wall. 

She wondered who had been fighting and over what. How did it happen at Hogwarts, one of the safest places in Wizarding Britain? 

Her pondering was interrupted by McGonagall saying, “Victory” which caused the portrait to swing open. Granger sat waiting for them in front of the fire, her scowl back on her face. 

“Miss Granger, if you would please show Miss Black to the head girl’s quarters. I think it best she stay close for the time being.” 

Granger looked as if she wanted to say something, but refrained, standing to her feet jerkily. “C’mon then.” 

“Miss Black,” called McGonagall right as they reached the stairway, “I will do everything in my power to fix this and send you back to your time.” 

“Thank you, Professor.” Bellatrix nodded curtly to the teacher, all of her years of etiquette training forcing her face to a neutral expression. “I appreciate it.” 

Granger coughed, a few stairs ahead of Bellatrix, and Bellatrix turned back to follow her up the stairs.

She had only been in Gryffindor tower once for an ill-advised hook-up in her sixth year. And it apparently had not changed with time, remaining a nauseating mix of red and garish gold. She far preferred her Slytherin common room with its calming green and dark colors. 

Granger pushed open a door at the very top of the tower, revealing a rather large room draped in dark red. 

“The bathroom is just through there if you’d like to freshen up.” Her tone could only be described as forcibly polite, but Bella was just glad she wasn’t trying to hex her anymore because Bella would hate to break McGonagall’s pet mudblood (if her arm was to be believed). Bella was ready now, unlike the events of this morning. 

She splashed some water on her face, surprised by the deep dark circles carved beneath her eyes. 

When she emerged from the bathroom, there was a second bed in the room and a large folding divider in the center of the room. 

“Why are there two beds?” 

“Because we will be sharing the room for the time being.” 

“Are you serious? I will not sleep in the same room as a mudblood.” 

As soon as the words left Bella’s lips, Granger was on her, pinning her to the wall. “I’d advise you stop using that term. It is no longer acceptable in this time.”

Her forearm pressed against Bella’s shoulders and their hips were practically touching. Granger’s mousy appearance covered the fact that she was surprisingly fit if the muscles in her arm were anything to go by. As their noses practically brushed, the extra few inches Granger had on her seemed more dramatic, and frankly annoying. 

“Get the fuck off of me, mudblood.” 

Bella grinned at the flinch that she felt more than saw, but that grin slipped as she felt the point of Granger’s wand dig into her side. “Don’t test me, Le-Black.” 

Bella shoved Granger back. “Just stay away from me.” 

“Gladly,” spat Granger, spinning on her heel. “I’ll be back later. Have a good night.” The door clicked behind Granger and Bellatrix’s walls collapsed. 

She shuffled to the bed, again in a terrible shade of red, and fell onto it. With a flick of her wrist, the curtains fell shut, blocking out the outside world. 

A loud sob ripped from her chest, Bellatrix curled in on herself. She wanted her sisters. She wanted Andromeda’s gentle reassurance and steady hand. She wanted Cissy’s bright smile and silly nature. How could she abandon her sisters? 

She needed to get back to her own time no matter the cost. 

xx 

Hermione pressed her back against the dormitory door, mind reeling. She shuddered as she listened to the sobs coming from within the room. 

Bellatrix Lestrange, Voldemort’s second-in-command, the most feared of the Death Eaters, sobbing in Gryffindor Tower. She didn’t know what to think.

As she made her way back to the common room, she was left unsure of what to do. So she did what she did best, she went to the library. 

After a brief discussion with the Fat Lady instructing her to not allow Bellatrix to open the door, she made her way down to the library, ignoring the creepiness of the empty castle. 

The library had largely been spared during the Battle thanks to Madam Pince’s valiant defense of her domain. There was only a few pieces of rubble that had crushed a study table when a spider had dropped from the sky. But Madam Pince had quickly dispatched it with the help of a couple of Ravenclaws. 

It was a solace to Hermione’s frayed sense of self to have the library unchanged. 

Harry and Ron might mock her instinct to always return to her books, but her books had saved them on more occasions than she cared to count. 

And so, her books may hold the answer to rid herself of the death eater currently sobbing in her room. 

Pulling a spare bit of parchment from her pocket, she tapped it with her wand. “Bellatrix Lestrange subjectium aperte revelatus.” It was a handy spell she had invented in her fifth year after one too many difficulties with Madam Pince over the location of specific texts. She was hoping one day to market it as a research tool, but other things had taken priority. 

The paper soon filled with a number of texts and their location throughout the library. 

A large portion of them were found in the  _ History of Wizarding Britain, 1945-1981 _ section as well as the  _ Current Events  _ section. Hermione soon found herself with a neat pile floating behind her. There were also a handful of newspaper articles dating back to Bellatrix’s birth announcement as well as other mentions in the society pages before it switched to reports of attacks on muggles and citizens, filled with torture and murder. Clippings of those flipped into a folder before resting atop the stack of books. 

The last items on her list were over in the journal section, an area which Hermione had always wished she had more time for. She, naturally, subscribed to a few journals herself like  _ American Magical Review _ ,  _ Journal of Applied Magical Theory _ and  _ Magie Internationale _ . But very rarely had journal article come up in the course of her studies at Hogwarts. 

The paper directed her to two different journals and editions:  _ The Athenian Journal of Runic Research  _ and  _ Camelot  _ (a journal concerned with new areas of magical research). She wasn’t sure why those would be included in her research of Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black, but she figured Bellatrix must have been the topic of some research into the rise and fall of Voldemort. 

With an appropriately Hermione sized stack of books (as Ron would say), she made her way back to the common room, stopping briefly to chat with Nearly-Headless Nick. 

Dobby popped in for a moment to drop off some soup as he was getting worried that Miss Hermy wasn’t eating enough for all of her important work. 

As she ate, she flipped through the early newspaper clippings which spoke of Bellatrix as the glittering jewel of Pureblood society, the dark eldest daughter of the Black family. It was clear that she was in high regard as early as her fourteenth birthday if Hermione’s math was correct. 

One article in particular caught Hermione’s eye. 

“ _ Cynus of House Black and Druella of House Rosier are proud to announce the engagement of their eldest daughter, Bellatrix Agrippa, to Rodolphus Lestrange, son of Randall of House Lestrange and Anastasia of House Avery.  _

_ Bellatrix has recently graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizarding at the top of her class.  _

_ Rodolphus has recently returned from a tour of South and Central America, where he was working to help ease business relations for his father’s investments in the region.  _

_ The couple will be married in a ceremony in Fall 1968. _ ” 

The clipping was accompanied by a photo of the “happy couple”. Hermione had seen photos of Bellatrix before, screaming mad with the loss of her master, her skin sallow and hair wild. But this photo, somehow, was even worse than those. The girl in the photo looked far too young to be marrying the man behind her. Even in the photo, it was as she was constantly trying to squirm away from him, but his tight grip on her hip prevented it. 

Fall of 1968 meant that this would have occurred within a month of Bellatrix’s graduation. Hermione could barely even wrap her mind around going steady with Ron at this point, much less being engaged and getting married. 

This must be why Bellatrix was so eager to get back. She didn’t want to lose out on her fiancee, no matter how deranged he would turn out. 

Hermione shuddered, despite the comfortable warmth of the common room. 

Rodolphus was still at large as was his brother, somehow slipping away in the chaos of the battle. Hermione tried not to think too much about how many of Voldemort’s supporters disappeared, but it was hard not to when one was smirking up at her from the Prophet. 

She shoved the clipping away from her, reaching for one of the academic journals. 

Hermione fully expected an in-depth analysis of Bellatrix’s psychology or fighting style. She was certainly not expecting to find “The Application of Ancient Greek Runes in Modern Day Warding and Shield Charms by Bellatrix Black” of “The Development of Engraved Magical Artifacts for Increased Security of Self and of the Home by Bellatrix Black and Minerva McGonagall”. 

The first article had been published in March 1968, but the second one had been published in 1969, a year after Bellatrix had left Hogwarts. McGonagall had clearly been close to be publishing research with Bellatrix. This was raising more questions than it answered. 

Nonetheless, Bellatrix’s research was fascinating and Hermione couldn’t help but get sucked in. 

So engrossed was she, that she barely noticed when her eyes slid shut and the journal fell to the floor with a quiet thud. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a quick update! 
> 
> hope you all enjoy! 
> 
> i certainly enjoyed doing a little minor academic geek out lol 
> 
> much love 
> 
> b


	3. grip on tight to your youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bellatrix and hermione have a moment^tm. they start to figure out what's wrong with bellatrix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from glass animals' "holiest"

_ chapter three.  _

_ grip on tight to your youth _

Hermione awoke to a pair of wide, brown eyes mere inches from her face. She blinked rapidly, her sleepy mind trying to catch up with reality. 

“Winky!” 

“G’Morning, Miss Hermione. Winky is here to wake you up.” 

“Huh?” 

“Miss Hermione is sleeping on the couch.” 

Hermione pushed herself into a seated position, rubbing at the inevitable crick in her neck. “Oh, right, thank you, Winky. I appreciate your concern.” The little elf twisted her hands anxiously in her shirt, her eyes fixed on her feet. “Is there something else?” 

“Is it true there’s a bad witch here? Kreacher says his mistress is here and Winky knows Kreacher has a bad mistress.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose as she tried to address Winky’s concerns. “Um, there is someone here, yes, that Kreacher may know. But, it’s a bit, er, complicated I suppose. I promise you that no one will hurt you Winky.” 

“Winky knows that Miss Hermione is a good witch. Winky’s friend Dobby says so.” Hermione’s heart clenched at the mention of the elf who had died saving Hermione from Bellatrix. She of course kept that information to herself. 

Winky is needing to tell Miss Hermione more.” 

“Yes, Winky?” 

“Miss Hermione’s friend is crying. The one up there.” Winky gestured up to the ceiling. “Winky is thinking you should know.” Winky’s gaze dropped to her feet again. “Winky is thinking you should help her.” 

“Thank you, Winky. I think I’ll take your advice.” The small elf blushed bright pink and nodded quickly. 

“Winky is needing to get back to the kitchen. Is Miss Hermione coming down for Winky’s breakfast?” 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Winky.” 

“You is too kind, Miss Hermione.” Winky bowed deeply, a habit Hermione had yet to break her of, and apparated away. 

Hermione dropped her head into her hands, still trying to process the events of yesterday. The memory of Bellatrix’s sobs was seared into her memory, but it didn’t erase so many other memories. 

With a heavy sigh, Hermione stood to her feet, wincing as her back popped. A lazy wave of her wand cleared up her books into a neat pile out of Bellatrix’s eyeline. After a long moment trying to get her head on straight, Hermione made the long journey up to the top of Gryffindor Tower. 

Fingers crossed behind her back, Hermione hoped to find Bellatrix sleeping peacefully or at the very least awake. But it was not to be. One of the curtains surrounding her bed had been cut in half, the ends singed. 

Bellatrix whimpered, clutching desperately to her pillow. She sounded so human in that moment that Hermione didn’t even realize her feet had carried her to Bellatrix’s side until the other girl twisted wildly to the side and kicked Hermione. 

“Bellatrix!” Hermione tried to catch Bellatrix’s hands and still her movement but the other witch was moving too much. Hermione, in a desperate attempt to still Bellatrix, pushed her onto her back and pinned her hands above her head. Bellatrix’s movements forced Hermione to move closer until she was practically lying on top of Bellatrix. 

The other girl finally stilled slightly and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. 

“You know, muddy, I usually prefer to be on top,” the husky, sleep-filled voice sent an involuntary shiver down Hermione’s spine. Hermione leapt backwards, eyes wide with horror. 

“You...you were having a nightmare. You were hurting yourself.” Bellatrix looked away quickly, her cheeks tinged with pink. She moved to sit up, wincing as her ribs continued to pull. “Are you hurt?” 

“One of my beaters accidentally redirected a bludger into me during our game. I didn’t bother to have it checked out by the new medi-witch, Poppycock or whatever her name is.” Bellatrix pressed a hand to her left side, wincing again, this time letting out a small whimper. “I figured I’d just have my sister take a look at it, she’s good at that sort of thing.” 

“Narcissa?” Hermione asked curiously. The few times she had met the Malfoy matriarch, she hadn’t gotten the impression that she was particularly empathetic or even magically gifted. But then again, one time had been at a Quidditch match, the other her sister had been torturing Hermione. 

Bellatrix fixed her with an odd look. “No, of course not. Andy- Andromeda.” Hermione’s heart immediately rose to her throat. She hadn’t even thought of the middle Black sister, who had lost her entire family in the war. And it was rumored that Tonks had been killed by her own aunt, who was currently sitting in front of Hermione. “Do you know Cissy?” 

Hermione broke out of her reverie and nodded a bit. “Um, yes, sort of, well, I went to school with her son, your nephew I guess.” 

“Cissy has a son? I mean of course she does, it’s thirty years.” Bellatrix scrubbed a hand over her face. “What’s his name? I’m assuming it’s with that Malfoy boy, what’s his face, the one who thinks he’s so pretty.” Hermione let out a snort of laughter. “I’ll take that as a yes,” chuckled Bellatrix, but she came up short as pain shot through her body. “For Hades’ sake, what was wrong with that bludger?” 

“Can I, can I take a look?” Hermione asked, her voice far gentler than before. 

Bellatrix cast an appraising look her way before she nodded. “I don’t see what would be wrong with that. Just no funny business, muddy.” 

“You continue to be so charming, Les-Black.” Hermione moved closer to the bed, feeling terribly like prey that willing walked towards a predator, even if the other girl didn’t have her wand. Bellatrix gingerly lifted up one side of her pyjama top. Hermione gasped as a large black mark covered Bellatrix’s ribs. “Sweet Jesus.” 

“What?” Bellatrix tried to twist to see it, but Hermione's hand on her shoulder stilled her. “Muddy, tell me what it is. Now!” 

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen anything like this. Are you sure it was just a bludger?” Hermione brushed her fingers across the edge of the mark, ignoring the softness of Bellatrix’s pale skin. “This looks like dark magic.” 

“What do you know about dark magic, muddy?” snarled Bellatrix, shoving Hermione away from her. 

Hermione snorted. Much of what she had learned about dark magic had been made a necessity by Bellatrix Lestrange. “Enough to know that that is the result of dark magic. I have a salve that will help make you more comfortable, but I doubt it will do much to make the mark go away.” 

“Do it.” 

Bellatrix stood to her feet and made her way over to the mirror to examine the mark while Hermione retrieved the salve from her beaded bag. Hermione wanted to pinch herself as she watched Bellatrix, her body untouched by war and prison yet. 

She was rather beautiful, in a dark sort of way, if you were into that sort of thing of course. Hermione forced herself to turn away before she got caught staring. 

“Here, sit back down on the bed and I’ll get to work.” Bellatrix nodded imperiously, her chin tipped impossibly upwards. “So, Andromeda is talented at healing magic?” Hermione asked as she spread the mixture over her own fingers. 

“Yes, she’s best at potions and charms, but she’s especially skilled in the healing arts. More out of necessity than anything else, but she does love it. She’s a gentle soul, my Andy.” Bellatrix smiled softly as she thought of her sister. “Once, when we were small, long before we came to Hogwarts, Andy and I came across a bird in our mother’s garden. It was a tiny thing, but it had fallen and broken its wing. Our father keeps hunting dogs at our estate so it was a wonder the little thing hadn’t been killed already. But Andy, she was bound and determined to save that bird. She cried and cried until I agreed to help her smuggle it in. So I wrapped it in my scarf and we ran back to the house and hid it under my bed. Merlin, Andy loved that little bird, called it Nymph. We got one of the house elves to help us fix the wing, but Andy couldn’t let it go, she didn’t want to release her back to the wild.” 

Hermione worked to spread the healing salve over the entirety of the black mark. “So what happened to the bird?” She glanced up to Bellatrix’s dark eyes, which shuttered instantaneously. 

Bellatrix swallowed hard before continuing. “Our mother found the bird, Cissy was still a baby so Mother had little time for us. She gave the bird to my father, who was livid. He dragged me and Andy out by our ears to his kennel where he kept his hounds. He threw that little bird in the kennel with the dogs and made us watch. Andy cried and cried, but Father didn’t care. She had nightmares for years after that. She’s still terrified of dogs and she’s going on 16 now.” Bellatrix looked away from Hermione and tried to subtly wipe a tear away from her cheeks. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be telling you all this.” 

Hermione tried to focus on her task at hand. It was hard enough to contend with a non-evil teenaged Bellatrix, but the image of a little girl trying to save a broken bird with her little sister was so contradictory to what she had known of the witch, it was enough to make her head spin. 

“No, no, it’s fine. I mean, who could I tell that would know you now?” Hermione had a quiet chuckle at that. “There, that should feel better for now. But I think it would be best if we saw the Headmistress.” 

“Isn’t there a medi-witch here?” 

“Um,” Hermione paused, unsure how to explain Madam Pomfrey's absence to Bellatrix. The Hogwarts Nurse was currently working out of St Mungo’s to watch over all the wounded from the Battle of Hogwarts as her Hospital Wing simply didn’t have the capacity to deal with the number. “She’s on leave working at St Mungo’s. Term let out early this year, which is why it’s so empty.” 

“I don’t suppose you would tell me why.”

Herrmione shook her head quickly. “Not if you want to ever return to the right time.” Hermione turned her back to Bellatrix to rummage through her trunk for some clothes for Bellatrix. “Here, you can borrow these.” She shoved a pile of clothes at Bellatrix. She quickly turned her back on the dark haired witch to give her privacy. Hermione felt the sudden urge to reorganize the various belonging she had been keeping on her desk. 

“So tell me, muddy, where did you sleep last night? Have some filthy little mudblood boyfriend?” 

Hermione spun on her heel. “I told you not to call me that...” Hermione trailed off in an almost question as she stared at Bellatrix, who was in just a bra and her pyjama bottoms. Her chest practically spilled out of the borrowed bra and her abdomen had that definition that only came from hours on the Quidditch pitch or in Hermione’s case, months on the run. 

Bellatrix bounced her eyebrows at Hermione in a way that must have been a family trait because Sirius had done it every time he finished a dirty joke. 

Hermione blinked slowly before snapping her mouth shut. “Just get dressed. And keep your prejudices to yourself, thank you very much. I’ll be waiting downstairs.” 

As she stormed downstairs, her fists curled at her sides. She wanted to punch something, probably Bellatrix. She was just so, so, so evil or something. How could somebody be so hateful and prejudiced? 

It was still after all these years inconceivable to Hermione to carry so much hatred for an entire sect of people. 

She was lost in thought when there was a cough behind her. 

Framed by the staircase and the sunlight streaming through the small window was Bellatrix, Hermione’s clothes just fractionally too big on her. She looked so  _ soft _ . Like she was actually just another teenager who was stressed by the world around her and wasn’t going to become the monster Hermione knew her as. 

“You’re staring again, mudblood.” As she said it, the corner of Bellatrix’s mouth ticked up as if she was just waiting for Hermione to yell at her again. “Where to? McGonagall’s, I mean, the Headmaster’s office?” 

“I thought you might like some breakfast first. I didn’t think you managed to eat last night.” 

Bellatrix’s eyebrows shot up as if she barely expected any shred of kindness from Hermione. “Breakfast, breakfast would be nice.” 

xx 

After a long debate with Granger over the rights of house elves as they ate breakfast in the kitchen, Bella found herself facing McGonagall’s desk, a silver knife on the middle of the desk. 

“Thank you for joining me, Miss Black, Miss Granger. After consulting with my colleagues, I believe it would be best to perform a blood test. I have procured a sample to test it against and we will be able to gauge Miss Black’s place in time.” 

Bella swallowed back the lump that had formed in her throat. She had never much liked blood, something she always found painfully ironic given how she had grown up. “How much blood?” 

“Just a drop or two. Miss Granger, I will need your assistance for this.” McGonagall motioned to the knife on the table. She set a thimble sized jar down next to it, about half full of dark blood. 

Bella was drawn to it. This was her blood, but her blood in the future. If she was right and she was dead by now, that raised the question of how McGonagall got it in such short notice. She hadn’t exactly taken McGonagall as a grave robber, but a lot could happen in thirty years. 

She had been so distracted by the vial of blood that she almost missed the silent argument happening between the other two witches. Granger was pointedly refusing to touch the knife while McGonagall’s lips formed that thin line that never ended well. 

“Miss Granger, under normal circumstances, I would not ask such a thing of you, but given our situation, it is a necessary evil.” 

“What, muddy, are you a pacificist or something?” drawled Bella, mainly as a distraction from the nausea slowly building at the thought of anyone taking her blood. “Further proof, I suppose, of the superiority of purebloods over-” A flurry of movement and sound interrupted the rest of Bella’s comment. 

“That is quite enough, Miss Black!” 

Granger grabbed Bella’s left wrist forcefully, pulling her to her feet. She gingerly picked up the blade, her eyes seeking out Bella’s. Bella bit the inside of her cheek to stop the wave of fear and nausea as Granger rested the knife over her palm. She must have been unsuccessful as a flash of pity appeared in Granger’s bright eyes. 

Bella forced herself to watch the proceedings, her gaze fixed on the contrast of her paler skin to the tanner fingers wrapped around her wrist. Granger’s sleeve had ridden up a bit, the letters  _ o d _ visible. When Granger noticed what she was looking at, she shook her arm so the sleeve covered the slur once more. 

“Miss Granger.” McGonagall nodded to the witch, her wand fixed on the little vial of blood. 

Granger drew the blade across her palm, a bright line of blood appearing instantly. She maneuvered Bella’s hand until a few drops of blood fell into the vial. As soon as it was done, Granger pushed here away, leaving Bellatrix to cradle her hand and attempt not to get blood on the borrowed sweater. 

But the cut on her hand was of little concern as she watched McGonagall tapped the vial three times and murmured, “ _ Sanguinis veritatem _ .” The vial turned from dark red to green to gold, before turning pitch black. 

Bella searched McGonagall’s face for any indication of what the colors meant. From over the older witch’s shoulder, she could see the portraits of former headmasters straining to see. 

“Black, that must be good for me, right?” Bella asked, ignoring the somewhat hysterical note to her voice. “Professor, what does that mean?” 

“To put it simply, you are the same person.” 

“Yes, I understand that, that was never in doubt. Please, what does that mean for my returning to 1968? I’ve already been away for too long.” 

Granger gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. “No, you can’t mean…” She twisted to stare at Bella who looked increasingly more perplexed. “But Professor, isn’t that impossible? To rise from the dead?”

“Rise from the dead?” Bella’s voice cracked as a touch of madness slipped in. “What are you two on about?” 

“I believe what my venerable successor and Miss Granger are attempting to say, Miss Black,” began Dumbledore’s portrait form over McGonagall’s shoulder, apparently now awake after the ritual, “is that you died in 1998, but by some miracle of death, you have returned from the dead, but not as you were when you died, but rather as you were in 1968. It would seem that somebody thinks you deserve a second chance.” 

“A second chance from what? How did I die?” Bella was quickly reaching hysterical levels. “The last thing I remember is a Quidditch match for Merlin’s sake! In 1968! I don’t want to be here!” 

“Miss Black, Bellatrix, please calm down!” McGonagall cried as sparks of magic flew from Bella’s fingertips. 

“Calm down! Why should I calm down when you’ve just told me I’ve been stolen away from 1968 because I died in 1998.” 

“Not so much stolen, I would say, as duplicated. Obviously, Minerva and Miss Granger know you in 1998, so you clearly existed and lived your life to its course. It is merely this form and this moment in time that Death has chosen for you to attempt again. Do you remember anything from before you woke yesterday morning?” 

“Yes!” shouted Bella, “I remember a bleeding Quidditch match!” 

Dumbledore did manage a chuckle at this, although the other pair of witches were far less amused. “No, my dear, perhaps from your fainting spell, do you remember anything occuring while you were unconscious?” 

Bella sank back against the chair, a pounding behind her eyes. She pressed her fingers to her temples. “Something about… something about a scar on the world, that I… that I need to repair?”

“You have done a fair bit of damage,” mumbled Granger partially under her breath. 

“It would seem, Miss Black, that you have been given a chance to repair what you have done in your lifetime.” McGonagall said as if speaking to a small child in the midst of a tantrum. “This is a great opportunity you have been given.” 

“I didn’t ask for this!” 

“Perhaps not in 1968, but you may have in 1998,” McGonagall explained, watching Bella as if she expected her to implode at the drop of a hat. “I know this must be difficult, but you have already lived out your life and you have been given a second chance, a chance to fix things, things you may not even remember, but a chance nonetheless.” 

Bella couldn’t help but wonder what she had done that was so terrible to warrant this. She figured it must have been bad enough that the two witches instantly knew who she was. What could be so evil that it requires reincarnation? 

“If I might make a suggestion, Minerva, I would advise fetching Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Tonks.” Bella’s head snapped towards the portrait. It was no leap of intelligence to figure out who Mrs. Malfoy was, but Tonks, the name sounded vaguely familiar, as if she had heard it in passing once before, but could not place it. Whoever this Mrs. Tonks was, they weren’t a pure blood. Perhaps it was some sort of Ministry official. There must be paperwork involved with rising from the dead. 

However, McGonagall looked absolutely incensed, as if smoke were poised to spew from her nostrils. “Absolutely not, Albus! I will not fetch her, not on the day of the Lupin’s funeral!” 

Dumbledore’s smile faltered, the ever present glitter disappearing. Bella glanced towards Granger, hoping she could clarify what had happened, but the other girl just looked like she might be sick or maybe even cry. 

“Who are you talking about?” Bella blurted out, her curiosity getting the better of her. 

“We will discuss this later, Bellatrix. I would advise that you and Miss Granger return to Gryffindor Tower at once. Miss Granger, I have arranged a portkey for us to leave at 2 o’clock.” McGonagall spoke stiffly, but Bella could swear she could see a tear in the corner of her eye. 

Bella paused, almost wanting to argue the point further, but deciding against it. Already it seemed as if neither witch here was on her side and it seemed a waste to push them too far over something as trivial as a name. At least push McGonagall too far. She was far less concerned with Granger. 

Once they were well away from the Headmistress’s office, Bellatrix asked, “Who are the Lupins?” 

“Friends of mine that died.” 

“How did they die?” 

“Leave it alone.” A wiser witch might have left well enough alone had they heard that tone, but Bellatrix had never claimed to be wise. Many other things, but not necessarily wise. 

“I’m just trying to find out what’s happening. Muddy, c’mon, I have just been vaulted 30 years in the future and apparently the two people who the old man thinks could help me, one of which is my baby sister, who’s now decades older than me, and I can’t see them because of somebody’s name that I’ve never even heard of. Just tell me who they are.” Bellatrix reach out and caught Granger’s sleeve, halting her progress down the hall. 

Granger spun around, forcing Bella against a nearby wall. She jammed her wand under the other girl’s chin, not unlike how Bellatrix had once done to her. “I said leave it alone. Not everything revolves around you. You have just made everything infinitely more complicated. You should’ve stayed dead, you psycho.” Bella visibly gulped, her dark eyes fixed on Granger’s amber ones. 

Bella blinked up at Granger, aware of a handful of things. One: Granger smelled like jasmine and fresh parchment. Two: Her body didn’t hate the feeling of Granger’s body pressed against hers even if the rest of her did. And three: she was so utterly beyond overwhelmed and terrified. 

She now at least knew Cissy was alive and had a son. But she had no clue where Andy was and it felt wrong. Since Andy had been born, the two eldest Black girl had rarely been apart, except for Bella’s first two years at Hogwarts. 

She didn’t want to be a child, but she so desperately wanted her sister there, the only one who knew how to deal with her moods and comfort her and patch up her wounds. 

As Bella remained pliant under Granger, waiting for the other girl to move, she was surprised to see the disgust in the amber eyes. Granger shoved away from her, neatly catching Bella’s bad side with an elbow. 

Bella hunched over a bit, coughing. “Message received, muddy, loud and clear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just for clarification's sake, when Bellatrix is referred to as such it's 3rd person limited from Hermione's perspective, when she's Bella and Hermione's Granger, it's from Bella's. 
> 
> hope you've all enjoyed so far! 
> 
> much love 
> 
> b


	4. what are men to rocks and mountains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from pride and prejudice by jane austen

_ chapter four.  _

_ what are men to rocks and mountains _

It was a sunny day when Nymphadora and Remus Lupin were buried. Teddy Lupin screamed and cried the whole time in his grandmother and then his godfather’s arms. 

Hermione started crying when Harry gave his speech, his green eyes shining as he spoke of the first time Lupin taught him the Patronus charm. Ron wrapped a long arm around her shoulder while she silently cried into his handkerchief. When it came time for Hermione to give her speech, Andromeda Tonks had patted her hand kindly and said, “You’ll do great, I’m sure.” 

Hermione’s insides twisted painfully as she catalogued the similarities between Bellatrix and Andromeda. The little bird, Nymph, rose to the surface of her thoughts as she walked forward, watching Tonks wink at her from her picture. 

Her speech went by in a blur; Hermione herself could barely remember it, but it was memorable enough, even amongst the likes of Harry and Kingsley Shacklebolt, that Andromeda came over and thanked her personally. 

“Miss Granger-” 

“Please, Mrs. Tonks, call me Hermione.” 

Andromeda smiled kindly at her, the lines around her eyes becoming more pronounced. “Then you must call me Andromeda. My daughter was very fond of you.” Andromeda’s eyes, which seemed so similar to young Bellatrix’s, filled with something that tugged at Hermione’s heart strings, a mother’s heartbreak. “You’re a muggleborn, right?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Hermione marvelled at the differences between the woman standing before her and the teenager hidden away in Gryffindor Tower. One had fallen in love with a muggle born and abandoned her life for him. The other sneered and snarled like a feral dog whenever a muggle born even came near her. 

“None of that ‘ma’am’ nonsense! I’m not your professor,” teased Andromeda, a sort of forced levity in her tone, “Nymphadora said you two shared a fondness for some muggle band. She always loved to find fellow wizards who shared her love for the muggle world. She and my husband shared that. Always going off to see those muggle moving pictures,” 

“Films,” Hermione supplied gently. 

“Yes, films. You see, despite living with a muggle born for all those years, I’m still not very proficient in the muggle world. But I want Teddy to understand where he comes from. And given how highly my daughter, and my son-in-law for that matter, spoke of you, I’d greatly appreciate it if you’d help Teddy learn about the muggle world.” 

Hermione’s mouth dropped slightly open in shock as the older witch spoke. When she finished, Hermione had to shake her head a bit to focus. “Oh, wow, that would be my pleasure. I mean, Harry also grew up in the muggle world, maybe we could take Teddy on some field trips to the muggle world.” 

“What’s this about field trips?” Harry asked as he joined them, bouncing Teddy on his hip. The baby was currently sporting jet black hair to match his godfather and seemed to have the beginnings of a scar on his forehead. 

Hermione explained what Andromeda had suggested. Harry, of course, was all for the idea as he babbled on about the zoo. 

And while Hermione was more than happy to help out Tonks and Professor Lupin’s son, she simply felt exhausted after yet another funeral. Harry, bless him, picked up on this and after redirecting Andromeda towards Mrs. Weasley, tugged her to the side. 

“How’re you holding up?”    
  


Hermione chuckled, “I feel like I should be asking you that.” 

Shrugging a shoulder, Harry managed a sheepish grin. “I’m keeping busy, you know, helping Kingsley at the Ministry with the Aurors and all.” 

“That’s great, Harry.” She managed a smile, but it felt heavy with the thought of Bellatrix Black. She had ruined everyone here’s lives and she was currently wearing one of Hermione’s favorite sweaters. “Really, I’m glad you’re keeping busy.” 

“How are things at Hogwarts?” 

“A mess to be frank. Professor McGonagall and I have been working on the Great Hall, but it still seems so broken.” Harry patted her shoulder in his awkward, brotherly, Harry way. “It’s nice to have something to be doing. I think I would’ve gone crazy just sitting around.” 

“I get that. It’s good to keep busy.” Hermione’s gaze shifted towards the grave stones where Tonks and Professor Lupin would lie forever. She would never get to finish her debate with Lupin over the appropriateness of House Elves. She would never argue with Tonks over whether or not she should dye or cut her hair. They would never get to watch their son attend Hogwarts or even take his first steps. It all felt so pointless. 

Teddy let out a particularly loud shriek in his grandmother’s arms, drawing Hermione’s attention. A very uncomfortable looking Narcissa Malfoy stood next to her sister, an expensive dark cloak wrapped around her shoulders. The two sisters stood slightly away from everyone, Narcissa in particular looking as if she would bolt at any moment. Hermione was particularly struck by the blonde as she had watched Bellatrix doing just that only hours ago. 

“I thought the Malfoys were under house arrest.” 

Harry shrugged one shoulder. “Kingsley gave Mrs. Malfoy special permission for today after Andromeda came to see him. I mean, like half of the people here are aurors and the other half are in the Order. Plus, she wouldn’t do anything to risk Draco.” 

“Andromeda wanted her here?” The last Hermione knew the middle Black sister had no contact with any of her family and hadn’t for the past nearly thirty odd years. 

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I guess that she and Narcissa have had some informal communication over the years and when she heard they were under house arrest she went to speak with her. One of the positives to come out of all this.” 

“Yes, Harry Potter winning wars, bringing families together since 1981.” Harry chuckled, nudging her with his elbow. 

It felt so freeing to laugh. Everything had been so terrible for so long and even though it was over, it just didn’t feel over. Bellatrix’s appearance was more than proof of that. 

“What’re we laughing about?” A heavy arm wrapped around her waist as Ron joined them. 

“Narcissa Malfoy,” Harry said through his laugh. 

Ron furrowed his brow, staring at his best friend as if he had lost his mind. “What’s so funny about Draco’s mum?” 

“Nothing,” Hermione soothed, curling further into Ron’s side. 

“Are you comin’ over to mine for dinner tonight, Mione? Mum’s making roast.” 

“Sure, as good as Winky’s cooking is, it’d be nice to be away from the castle for a little bit.” 

“I don’t understand how you’re doing it, just locked up with McGonagall, I’d’ve gone barmy.” Ron chuckled at his own joke. “Harry mate, you coming as well?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

xx 

Bella was, for lack of a better word, bored out of her damned mind. The girl Granger and Professor McGonagall had locked her away in Gryffindor Tower with nothing to do nor any indication of when they would return. After the morning she had, she wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse. 

She struggled to properly wrap her mind around the fact that she had been thrust thirty years into the future. A future where she was dead for who knows how long. 

It sounded like a bad plotline out of those serials Andy liked. 

She sighed heavily, turning away from the window in the dorm. (Not that she’d ever admit it, but the Gryffindors had a better view than the dungeon.) 

She needed something to distract her before she lost her mind going over the possibilities of this future. 

Had she been transported to the future with her trunk, she would have been more than happy. Her trunk was filled to the brim with books and parchment and other tools for her runic research. But instead she was stuck in a small room with literally nothing to do other than conjure little amusements with her wand. 

She spent the first hour or so trying to undo the wards Granger put up around the Tower, but she had to admit the mudblood knew her stuff. Her wards were at least as strong as the ones her father had put up around her bedroom at home. 

Well, not home anymore, she supposed. One upside of all of this was that the bastard must have been dead for ages now. And if he wasn’t, well, Bella would be more than happy to remedy that. 

Flinging one last blasting charm at the door that dissipated into nothingness, Bella began to search through Granger’s things. It was what the girl deserve, locking Bella up like she was some sort of criminal. 

Bella was only able to get to the first layer of her trunk, the rest hidden behind a complex runic lock. She was mildly intrigued by the lock, the magic pulsating off of it. At some point, it might be worth cracking, but for now, Bella would continue to rifle through Granger’s things. So far she had found a few scraps of parchment with scribled notes about some sort of house elf rights campaign and a spare pair of socks. 

It wasn’t until Bella checked under the bed that she found anything of interest. She tugged the box of books out, hoping for even an old school textbook or something. 

“For Morgana’s sake, it’s fucking muggle books.” Bella dropped back onto her heels, shoving the books away. 

On the one hand, she had no interest in the prattling of muggles. On the other hand, she was so very bored. And even better, her parents would be rolling over in their graves if they knew she was reading muggle texts. 

It was good to know that even thirty years in the future find ways to infuriate her father. 

“ _ The Great Gatsby _ , sounds pretentious, you shouldn’t have to give yourself titles.  _ Nineteen Eighty Four _ , well, I’ve already missed that so no point.  _ Dracula _ , that’s a wizard book already, what a scam.  _ The Age of Innocence _ ,” Bella let a high laugh bubble out of her chest, “I haven’t been innocent since that summer we spent in Normandy and Marie Devereux.” She tossed the book into her reject pile. “ _ Les Miserables _ , Merlin, the French are dramatic.  _ Pride and Prejudice _ .” Bella traced her fingers over the cover. A still picture of a man and a woman stared back at her on the worn, well abused cover. “Granger did call me prejudiced today, so might as well.” 

Bella settled back on her bed with the book, flicking through the pages with semi-interest. 

She was completely engrossed in the book by the time McGonagall came to free her from her temporary jail. So engrossed that she didn’t notice McGonagall walk in, too busy cursing Elizabeth’s harsh rejection of Darcy.

Bella couldn’t comprehend somebody turning away someone of standing, who at least professed to care, in favor of possible spinsterhood or worse an arranged marriage. Although she’d curse someone before admitting it, Bella loved romance novels, just as her middle sister did, holding out hope for some romantic hero to sweep her away from the living nightmare that was her life. 

“Bellatrix,” McGonagall’s cool voice broke through Bella’s inner dialogue, causing the girl to start and drop the book. “I don’t mean to disturb you, but I wished to inform you that I had returned.” 

Bella swung her legs over the bed to face the professor, discreetly shoving the muggle book under her pillow. “Where’s the girl?” 

“She’s away for the evening.” 

“Hot date?” The pinched expression on McGonagall’s face told her more than enough. She supposed after how ever many years McGonagall had been teaching, student romances were more a point of irritation than enthusiasm. “You don’t approve?” 

“Mr. Weasley has his merits.” 

“Weasley? You mean like that Gryffindor in my year? The ginger blood traitor obsessed with muggles?” The look McGonagall shot her way was nothing short of hostile. “Right, sorry, I won’t insult your Lions anymore, Minnie.” 

“Miss Black!” Bella raised her hands in surrender, mumbling another apology. “Bellatrix, it would be in your best interest to cease spouting your father’s rhetoric. Times have changed and such ignorance will not be tolerated in this climate.” Bella pulled a face at the comparison to her father. “Come, dear, let us have a spot of tea, it’s been a long day.” 

“How was the funeral?” asked Bellatrix as she followed the older woman down to the common room. 

The color drained from McGonagall’s face as she conjured a tea set to the table. She looked old, even older than she had seemed after thirty years. “It is, it is…” Her voice pitched up as if fighting back tears. “It is always difficult to bury one’s students.” 

“The, er, Lupins, they were students of yours? I don’t think I knew any Lupins at Hogwarts, but I suppose I wouldn’t know the younger years.” Bella lowered into one of the cushy chairs in front of the 

“No, you wouldn’t have known either. They were after your time. Although, Remus, he did outscore you on your NEWTs by a quarter of a point.” Bella perked up at that. She had forgotten all about her NEWTs. 

“A quarter of a point?” 

“Hm?” McGonagall paused in her preparation of the tea. “Oh, well, I tend to keep track of my highest scoring students.”

“Highest scoring? This is so strange. I mean, I haven’t even taken my NEWTs yet, and yet, I have all at once. You’d think this would be creating a paradox or something.” Bella graciously accepted her cup of tea. “I don’t suppose I could see my NEWTs, since technically, I’ve already taken them.” 

McGonagall watched her curiously for a moment before nodding. “Yes, I suppose so.” 

“Professor, I have been wondering, where are all the students? Obviously the castle is in disrepair, but it’s the middle of May. Shouldn’t there at the very least be fifth and seventh years here for their exams?” 

Bella knew McGonagall was hiding something, she just didn’t know what. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to explain at this moment, Bellatrix. I am, as of yet, unsure what to do with you.”

“What to do with me? What are they going to lock me up or something?” 

“Precisely my concern, dear.” Bella’s mouth fell open. 

“You’re not serious, are you?” But Bella could already tell from the look in McGonagall’s eye that this was a matter of utmost importance. “As in Azkaban?” McGonagall nodded again. A shiver rushed down Bella’s spine. “I think I’d go mad in there.” 

_ Screams. So much screaming. It wouldn’t stop. Why wouldn’t it stop? Why couldn’t everyone just be quiet?  _

_ And then, Bella realized it was because she was the one who was screaming.  _

“Bellatrix, Bellatrix.” A hand cradled her head gently. 

“Huh?” Bella shot up violently, nearly smashing into McGonagall in front of her. She felt as if all the life had been sucked out of her, like she had been frozen to death. “What happened?” 

McGonagall, her brow seriously creased, said, “I’m not entirely sure. You seemed to have some sort of episode, a fit I suppose. Has this ever happened before?” 

Bella froze at the mention of an episode. She had heard whispers amongst the Pure Blood circles of the Black Madness, the curse upon her family that had led many into darkness. There were whispers that her father was affected by it as well as her aunt. It couldn’t happen to her. She wasn’t mad. She had never shown signs of insanity. 

“N-n-no,” she stuttered out, cursing her weakness. “I’ve never passed out. I’ve never felt anything like this.” 

“Like what?” McGonagall prompted. 

“Like I’d never be warm or cheerful again. Like all the light was gone from the world. And the screaming. There was so much screaming, but I was the one who was screaming. And I couldn’t stop.” Bella pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to stave off a headache. A bar of chocolate was pressed into her hand. She looked questioningly at her professor.

“It sounds as if you had an encounter with a dementor.” 

“A dementor? I’ve never even seen one. I mean, I’ve studied them and can produce a patronus during Defense Against the Dark Arts, but I’ve never encountered one. I think there was a cousin of my mother’s who tried experimenting on one and got the Kiss for his trouble.” Another shudder went down Bella’s spine. 

McGonagall patted Bella’s shoulder in what must have been intended as a soothing touch, but Bella couldn’t shake the feeling of despair that seemed to lodge itself in the very essence of her soul. “Eat the chocolate, it’ll help.” 

Bella took a tentative bite, sighing as a bit of warmth seemed to move through her body. “Where’d you get the chocolate?” 

McGonagall chuckled, “My students have long kept a stash of illicit food in the common room. They believe I don’t know about it, but they often forget that I was once a student too.” 

Somehow the image of McGonagall at her age was almost as terrifying as a dementor. 

Bella polished off the chocolate bar, seeming to be back to normal. “So I was one of your highest scorers of all time?” She asked with a smirk. “Does that mean that I don’t need to retake my NEWTs in this time?” 

“Yes, you were. But as for the state of your NEWTs in 1998, I am not yet sure. For the time being, I think Hogwarts will be the safest and least-troubling option for you.” 

“Surely I can just stay at one of the Black family properties. I’m sure one of my Uncle Orion’s sons, whichever is head of the house, would be more than happy to accomodate me, given my circumstance. Merlin that’s strange to think, Sirius hadn’t even gotten his Hogwarts letter yet, he was more concerned with bringing in frogs from Mother’s garden. And Reggie, he’s just a baby.” 

As was becoming habit, McGonagall’s expression pinched. “I’m afraid to inform you that the male line of House Black is extinct.” 

Bella’s mouth fell open. “What?” That was just impossible. That meant that both of her cousins were dead. “So then who is the head of house? Andromeda?” 

“I would assume it has passed to your sister, Narcissa or her son, Draco.” 

“Two things,” Bella held up two things, “First off, of course Narcissa named her son something as dramatic as Draco. Secondly, why wouldn’t it pass to Andromeda as the older sister?”

“I would assume that given your youngest sister has a son, the line would pass through her.” There was something McGonagall still wasn’t telling her about Andy.

“Does Andy have children? She always wanted a lot of children.” 

If possible, McGonagall looked even more pained. “A daughter.” 

“Wild.” Bella shook her head. Just a day ago, her sister had been going on and on about how dreamy Steve Laughalots’ hair was. And now she apparently had a daughter. 

Things just kept getting stranger and stranger. 

xx 

If there was one thing Hermione felt she could always rely on, it was that Molly Weasley’s cooking was always impeccable. 

“Really, Mrs. Weasley, that was phenomenal as always.” Hermione leaned back in her chair, feeling just ever so bloated. Harry managed to pull himself out of his Ginny-induced haze to echo her sentiments. 

“I’d be happy to share the recipe with you, dear.” Mrs. Weasley smiled kindly at her as magiced the dishes to the sink. “I have a whole books of recipes I’ve been saving for my boys’ wives and Ginny. I gave Fleur a copy for her wedding, although I don’t think she’s been using it. Why, last time I went to go see them in Shell Cottage Fleur made me some sort of French chicken, because it certainly wasn’t  _ my  _ roast chicken recipe.” She inhaled sharply, offended by the very idea that her son’s wife wouldn’t be cooking her recipes. 

“Um, Mrs. Weasley, do you realize that Ron and I have only  _ just  _ started dating?” 

A tense quiet fell over the room as the other occupants of the room glanced between Hermione and the Weasley matriarch. Her husband tried to cut in with a question for Harry about muggle football, but was spoken over by his wife. “Yes, yes, dear, but we all saw this coming. It’s only a matter of time.” 

“With all due respect, Mrs. Weasley, we’re only seventeen, there’s no need to jump to any decisions here. I’m still in the process of finishing my degree and there’s much I’d like to accomplish before committing to marriage.” 

Harry and Ginny both sunk in their chairs -- clearly they had had this discussion with Mrs. Weasley already. 

“Seventeen? Arthur and I were married at seventeen. I had Bill not long after my eighteenth birthday. Seventeen is certainly not too young as you three proved this past year, galavanting around the country fighting dark wizards.” She rounded on Harry and Ron, who both flushed red. “Really, Hermione, I know that you don’t come from a magical background so you don’t understand some of our ways.” 

“Now, Molly-” 

“But it is widely accepted that wizards and witches tend to marry young. Take Harry’s parents for example,” she motioned to the boy in question. “If I recall correctly, your parents married immediately after their graduation.” 

Harry scratched at the back of his neck. “I mean, I dunno, I think the whole war going on might have factored into that.” 

Mrs. Weasley scoffed, focusing back on Hermione. “Regardless, my point still stands. I think you would be foolish to not have marriage in mind by the turn of the New Year. You and Ronald have known each other for so long. It only makes sense. That goes for you two as well,” she declared, pointing at her youngest child and her boyfriend with zeal. With that, she disappeared back into her kitchen, apparently content with her lecturing. 

“I should really be getting back to Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall and I are planning on finishing the reconstruction of one of the staircases in the morning.” They had no such plans, but Hermione wasn’t going to risk another one of Molly Weasley’s lectures. 

As Mrs. Weasley spoke of marriage at seventeen, Hermione couldn’t help but think of the engagement announcement she read the night before. The image of a seventeen-year-old Bellatrix held in place by her fiance burned in her memory. 

“I’ll walk you out.” Ron jumped to his feet, eagerness written across his face. 

As she walked by, Ginny caught her sleeve. “Hermione, really, don’t listen to Mum. She’s still having issues with the end of the war and everything. She doesn’t mean everything she say.” Only Hermione was pretty sure that Molly Weasley meant everything she said. 

Ron hooked his arm through hers as they walked out into the garden. 

“Why didn’t you say anything to your mum?” 

“Oh come on, ‘Mione, you know what she’s like. It wouldn’t’ve done any good once she’s on a roll.” 

“So you disagree then with what she said, that we should be getting married by the end of the year.” 

“I mean…” 

“You can’t be serious, Ron!” Hermione took a sharp step away from Ron, unwilling to be in contact with him. “Ron, be reasonable. I will be graduating from Hogwarts and then going into a career of my choosing. I will not just be a little housewife for you!” 

Ron held up his hands defensively. “I never asked you to be! But Hermione, you gotta know. This, you, us, this is it for me. I know it. I think I’ve always known.” Hermione couldn’t help but melt a bit at the earnest expression in Ron’s eyes. She softened a bit, brushing her fingertips through his hair. He caught her free hand and brought it to his lips. “Love you, Mione.” 

“I love you too, Ron. I’m sorry we fought. But I do need to be getting back to Hogwarts before it’s too late.” She moved up to her tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his mouth, which he was more than eager to reciprocate. 

“Have a good night, Hermione, sleep well.” He hugged her tight once more before letting her go out to the boundary line. 

Hermione retrieved the portkey and activated it. Moments later, she found herself in the common room, the remnants of a casual dinner for two out by the fire. 

Sighing to herself over the events of the evening, Hermione trudged up to her quarters. A dim light illuminated the corridor from under the door. 

As she pushed the door open, she almost forgot about her unwilling roommate. Bellatrix was propped up on her bed, a candle floating near her head, her nose in a book. 

Bellatrix started, nearly knocking into the candle and setting her curls alight. Then a lazy smirk appeared. “You’re back late, Granger. What, date with the blood traitor didn’t go well?” 

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she focused on what Bellatrix was reading. “Rich from you given you’re reading a muggle book.” 

Bellatrix shrugged one shoulder. “You didn’t leave me with anything to occupy myself so I was forced to adapt. It’s well done, for a muggle.” 

“You do realize  _ Pride and Prejudice  _ is one of the most celebrated books of all time?” Hermione asked, crossing over to her side of the room where Bellatrix had left a mess of books. 

Bellatrix let out a semi-impressed noise. “Hm, interesting. Although I have to say, I want to slap Elizabeth sometimes.” 

Hermione chuckled. “I have often wanted to slap Darcy as well. It’s the nature of Austen’s writing.” Without further conversation, Hermione slipped into her pyjamas and then her bed. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Bellatrix read the last few pages of the book. Her face was wonderfully expressive and open as she read, unlike most of the time where she was a closed book. 

Bellatrix snapped the book shut and tossed it onto the bedside table. “That was acceptable, I suppose.” 

“I’m sure Jane Austen will be glad to hear you approve.” 

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and extinguished the candle. 

“Hey Granger?” 

“Yes, Bellatrix?” 

“Are you ever going to tell me your first name?” 

Hermione sighed heavily. She supposed there was no risk in telling Bellatrix at this point, given she was permanently in 1998. “Hermione.” 

There was a rustle of movement on Bellatrix’s side. “Like the daughter of Menelaus and Helen? Or like the Shakespeare character?” 

“You’ve read Shakespeare?” 

“There’s an awful lot you don’t know about me, Granger. You’ve only known me for what, two days?” 

That was certainly true, but Hermione couldn’t help but think that she wouldn’t mind getting to know Bellatrix Black a bit more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i promise i'm not weasley bashing and ron will certainly show up some, but i also am firmly of the belief that molly doesn't understand they are capable of making their own choices and has a sort of old fashioned view of things. 
> 
> slowly slowly the plot will emerge even more with regards to bella's issues. but it is rather fun with the irony that bella inadvertently creates pretty much every time she talks. 
> 
> hope you all enjoyed! come say hey @ avasharpest on tumblr !! 
> 
> much love   
> b


	5. where our design has failed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from dessa's "poor atlas"

_ chapter five.  _

_ where our designs have failed _

Every morning, since that nightmarish night in March, Hermione had studied the scarring on her forearm. Sometimes it bled painfully, as if Bellatrix had infused it with her very malice (which Hermione wouldn’t put past her). Other times it faded white against her skin, almost indiscernible. To be frank, Hermione was convinced the mark was cursed in one way or another. 

One thing she was certain of was that she would never be rid of the brand. She would never be able to forget what she was, a mudblood. Sometimes, that was enough motivation for her. It propelled her for seven years. To prove society wrong, that a mudblood could be the brightest witch of her generation, despite their prejudices. But other times, she knew, deep down, that nothing would be enough. She would always be that odd little muggle girl on the train seven years ago, just a little bit too keen, just a little bit too muggle. 

And Bellatrix Lestrange had carved that into her skin so she would never have any delusions to the contrary. Hermione practically ought to thank Bellatrix. Maybe it would save her some heartbreak. 

Hermione shook her head. That was insane. 

She rolled onto her back, tearing her gaze away from the slur. Sunlight had just began to seep through the window, but for the past year, Hermione had become accustomed to sleeping little and sleeping lightly. Such was life on the run from the entire world. 

She propped herself up slightly to observe her roommate. 

The dark haired girl evidently tossed in her sleep as the blankets twisted around her legs in a pile, leaving her upper half exposed. Even from her bed, Hermione could see the light definition of Bellatrix’s abdomen where her top had ridden up to her ribcage. 

Merlin, she was pretty. She had that dark beauty of film stars long gone, a sort of ethereal essence that ensnare the viewer. Bellatrix’s stint in Azkaban stood testament to her beauty as the witch’s beauty was still evident even after wasting away for fourteen years. 

“Stop staring at me, Granger, it’s creepy,” grunted Bellatrix, rolling onto her stomach and burying her face in the pillow. 

Hermione instantly flushed, diverting her gaze. 

“I wasn’t staring,” said Hermione, but she barely convinced herself, much less Bellatrix. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Granger.” 

xx 

“Morning girls,” McGonagall greeted as the two witches joined her in the kitchens. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be staying over at Mr. Weasley’s or not.” Her statement was joined by a knowing lift of her eyebrows. 

Bella stifled a chuckle in her hand, still trying to wrap her head around the pretty mudblood with one of that bumbling oaf Weasley’s offspring. And probably with the Prewett girl. Bella had stumbled upon them locked away in a classroom while on prefect rounds one too many times for her liking. 

Granger pinned her with a withering stare, which only made Bella want to laugh more. Granger huffed out a breath before taking her seat. 

An elf appeared at Bella’s elbow, immediately bowing until his nose touched the floor. “Miss Bella, Kreacher is honored to see you,” the elf’s voice trembled in fear, unwilling to look up. “Kreacher apologizes, Master Sirius and the boy tricked Kreacher. Kreacher is sorry. Kreacher swears he would never do anything to hurt Miss Bella or Miss Cissy.” Bella stared down at the elf clutching at the hem of her trousers. Kreacher, as in her Aunt Walburga’s nutty elf? 

“Get off of me, elf!” Not since her nursemaid Tinsey had an elf touched her in anyway. 

Kreacher backed away, keeping his back parallel to the floor. “Kreacher means no disrespect to Miss Bella. Kreacher is loyal to the Blacks. Kreacher meant no disrespect fighting against the Dark Lord. Kreacher was misled by Master ‘Arry. Kreacher would never harm a member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.” 

Bella looked desperately to McGonagall and Granger, hoping one of them would intervene as quite frankly she hadn’t the faintest idea what the elf was on about. 

“Kreacher, why don’t you give Miss Bella some space?” Granger said gently, approaching the elderly elf. The elf’s eyes bounced between Granger and Bella herself, confusion evident in those big orbs. 

“Kreacher,” Bella began struck by a stroke of inspiration. If McGonagall and Granger wouldn’t tell her what happened to her family, she was sure the mad little elf would, “what happened to Sirius and Regulus? And what of my sister, do you remember her, Andy?” 

Kreacher collapsed on the floor, clutching at his knees as he rocked back and forth. “Blood traitors and filth, muggle lovers and half breeds. Oh how Kreacher’s mistress’s house has been dirtied. Blood traitors, mudblood, filth,” moaned Kreacher. The other house elves gave him a wide berth, some muttering under their breath, shaking their heads. “Miss Bella, Kreacher tried, Kreacher tried. Blood traitors and muggle lovers and half breeds and mixed breed pups.” He let out a long wail. 

“Kreacher! That is enough!” Hermione spoke, although her voice wavered. Then in a gentler voice, she said, “Why don’t you go find Winky and have her give you a spot of brandy? And then maybe have a visit with Master Harry.” 

Kreacher, now prone on the ground, clutched at a chain around his neck. Bella squinted to get a better look at it. 

“Is that Salazar Slytherin’s locket?” 

“No!” wailed Kreacher, rolling away from Bella. “Master Regulus took it. It is Kreacher’s! Master Harry said it was Kreacher’s!” 

Hermione beckoned to a few of the other house elves. “Will you please help Kreacher? Lommy? Folkey?” 

“Of course, Miss Hermione!” The elves chorused in their high pitched tones. “We is happy to help, Miss Hermione.” The elves lifted Kreacher off the ground as he continued to wail about blood traitors and half breeds and filth, all while clutching that locket. 

Bella stood back aways, stunned into silence. The elf was broken or defective. 

“Black?” Granger laid a hand on Bella’s arm gently. 

Bella immediately shrugged her hand off. “Don’t touch me, filthy mudblood.” 

Anger and hurt flashed in Granger’s frustratingly intoxicating eyes. 

“Now, Miss Black, I understand this must be stressful for you-” 

“Stressful!” Bella’s voice reached a pitch that caused the other two to flinch back. “Yes, stressful is one word for it. Not that either of you would understand.” She twisted on her heel and took off running through the door, out into the castle. 

She didn’t stop running until she reached the Quidditch pitch. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the damage done to her favorite place at Hogwarts. The stands were practically still smoldering, barely even standing. And the goal posts had been torn from the earth as if by giants. Who could do something like this? 

Bella stumbled towards the shed where the spare brooms were kept, operating primarily on muscle memory at this point. A simple Alohamora and Bella was up in the air. 

She only hovered about ten feet above the ground, reclining against the broom. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend that any minute now Andy would be out to toss a quaffle with her while Cissy complained they didn’t spend enough time with her. 

Would she ever get to see her sisters again? She hadn’t even seen Cissy the night before she was plucked out of time. Cissy was too little for the house parties and quite frankly, disapproved of Bella’s drinking. 

And Andy, the pitying look she had shot Bella when she saw Bella sneaking out with Elnora Hawke burned in Bella’s memory. The worry and the concern that had seemed to become an essential part of Andy in the past year tore at Bella’s heart. Why didn’t she leave Elnora Hawke and go spend time with her sister? 

Well, that was easy enough. Elnora Hawke was easily one of the most beautiful girls Bella had ever seen with her soft golden curls and full lips and cheeks. And also one of the most ruthless bitches Bella had ever had the misfortune of meeting. The American reminded Bella of molten gold, beautiful, but dangerous if you got too close. So when Elnora cornered her in the common room and promised a reward for her victory, Bella was in no position to say no. 

(And anyway, who knows if she’d ever have a chance for sex with someone who wasn’t that pig?) 

“‘Ey! You there! Nobody’s ‘lowed on school grounds until the castle’s fixed up!” 

Bella lifted her head up slightly, watching as Dumbledore’s half-giant pet lumbered towards her, waving his umbrella. With a sigh, Bella twisted into an upright position, allowing herself to drift closer to the ground. 

“You!” the half-giant’s face burst into a ruddy anger as he brandished his umbrella in her face. “Get off tha’ broom. Yer comin’ with me!” 

And so, for the second time in three days, Bella found herself being escorted to the headmistress’s office at wand point. 

“Professor, look who I found, sulkin’ ‘round the pitch.” The half giant shoved her forward with one of his massive hands, nearly sending her face first into the desk. “Din’t even try an’ fight. Sure have fallen a lon’ way, ‘aven’t ya, Lestrange?” 

Magic crackled at her fingertips at the name. How, how could that bastard follow her thirty years into the future? Would she never be rid of him and his wandering hands and sharp teeth? 

“That is quite enough, Hagrid. Miss Black is, for lack of a better explanation, from another time and as such will not be accountable for Mrs. Lestrange’s actions.” 

“Actions!” bellowed the half-giant, nearly knocking his umbrella into a delicate looking instrument. “S’at what we’re callin’ it now? Actions?” Hagrid slammed a hand on the desk, causing Bella to flinch back. “Y’know what she’s done and yer not sendin’ her straight to Azkaban.” The half-giant jabbed a thick finger in Bella’s direction. 

“Hagrid! Enough!” 

“‘Pologies, Professor. Din’t mean to lose my tempe’.” 

“I believe Miss Granger is working on the fourth floor corridor, perhaps you should assist her.” 

The half-giant had the decency to look ashamed as he bowed his head and mumbled his agreement before ducking out the door. 

“Biscuit, Black?” McGonagall thrust a tin under Bella’s nose. 

“Pardon?” 

“You ran out of breakfast, so you must be hungry.” 

“Not particularly.” 

“Come, sit, Bellatrix. Let us talk.” 

Bella tugged a hand through her curls and pointedly made no move to sit down. “No, no, I’m tired of sitting and talking.” She began to pace the length of the room, nervous energy coursing through her veins. “I know you’re keeping things from me. You won’t let me see my sisters. You won’t let me do anything!” A sharp pain radiated from her side, but she pushed through it. “Tell me, tell me what’s going on. Why the castle is ruined. Why I’m dead. Tell me-” 

And then Bella knew only darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're getting there folks!! 
> 
> as for kreacher, i figure post-azkaban bellatrix is terrifying even if she's being "nice" and so kreacher is absolutely terrified of her and he doesn't want her to like i dunno torture him, hence his extreme reaction to her. plus kreacher is meant to be like 600, so he might not really be able to tell the difference between bella and bellatrix at this point. 
> 
> sorry for such a short chapter. this is more just filler getting us to where we need to go. 
> 
> andy and cissy will both be showing up soon and there will be adventures to all sorts of fun places like cemetaries!! 
> 
> leave a comment or come say hey @ avasharpest on tumblr !!
> 
> much love
> 
> b


	6. plenty more tears in the sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from alt-j's "hunger of the pines"

_chapter six._

_plenty more tears in the sea_

“Why do you think she keeps passing out?” Hermione asked as Hagrid laid the prone body of Bellatrix Black down in the hospital wing. “I mean, this is the second time.” 

“Gentle, Hagrid,” scolded McGonagall when Hagrid almost knocked Bellatrix’s head into the bed frame. Hagrid grunted in response. “I’m afraid Miss Black’s condition is beyond my magical expertise. I have called in Poppy. I doubt Poppy would recognize Bellatrix in her current state and even so,” she cleared her throat, “I trust that Poppy would keep this to herself.” She fixed Hagrid with an even state. “The pandemonium that would ensue if her existence got out would be beyond anything we could contain.” 

Hagrid swallowed audibly and nodded. “Er, I best be gettin’ back to the forest. Lots to do.” Hagrid ran a hand through his beard, glancing between Hermione and the professor nervously. “I’ll be seein’ ya around.” He nodded again before making his way out of the hospital wing. 

“When will Madame Pompfrey be arriving?” Hermione brushed her fingertips over Bellatrix’s wrist, marveling at how delicate and breakable she seemed, like a porcelain doll. 

McGonagall pursed her lips. “Hopefully before the Minister arrives.” 

Hermione’s mouth fell open. “You called the Minister? What are you planning on telling him?” 

“I don’t know, Miss Granger,” sighed McGonagall, pinching at the bridge of her nose. “But the longer we wait, the worse it may be for Miss Black.” Hermione’s response was stalled by the flurried arrival of Poppy Pomfrey, fresh off a shift at St. Mungo’s. 

“Minerva, what is so urgent?” She stopped in front of Bellatrix. “Who is this? A student?” 

“Of sorts, it’s very complicated and I would be happy to appraise you of the situation after you have uncovered what is wrong.” 

Pomfrey furrowed her brow, but aquiested, turning back to Bellatrix. 

Hermione watched with fascination as the medi-witch performed a series of diagnostic tests over Bellatrix. Most of the time, Herrmione was on the receiving end of such tests and as such, had no opportunity to study the techniques. 

Pomfrey, after some long minutes of testing, looked up and motioned for Hermione. “Miss Granger, I need to examine the patient’s ribcage and chest.” Hermione gingerly lifted the patterned sweater she had lent Bellatrix, far too amused by the other witch’s moaning about wearing ugly muggle clothes. A gasp fell involuntarily from her mouth. 

The black bruise that Hermione had attempted to treat the previous day had spread even further up towards her chest. The magic radiating off of Bellatrix was so dark it made Hermione’s skin crawl. 

“Sweet mother of Morgana. It is as I suspected. Dark magic, very dark magic indeed has taken ahold of this girl.” 

“What can be done, Poppy?” 

Pomfrey shook her head, looking up to McGongall. “I can make her comfortable for now, but it will come down to her own strength. Both physically and that of her magical core. This is dark magic unlike any I’ve ever seen. It feels ancient, untouchable. I have a colleague at St. Mungo’s who specialises in the effect of dark curses, I think I will consult with her. For now, I can make the girl comfortable until she wakes, which may be any moment or may not be for a while. I’m sorry, there is little I can do.” Pomfrey looked down sadly at Bellatrix. “What is her name?” 

“Bella,” said Hermione quickly, briefly squeezing Bellatrix’s fingers. 

“I’ll be back shortly. I’m going to send a message to my colleague.” 

Hermione found herself fully engrossed by the young woman asleep before her. Her dark lashes brushed against pale cheeks with a faint smattering of freckles. Hermione wanted to reach out and touch and feel how soft Bellatrix’s skin would be. 

“Minerva, Miss Granger, is everything alright…?” Kingsley’s appearance thankfully broke Hermione out of her creepy trance as she snapped her attention to the new Minister of Magic. The man’s gaze fixed on Bellatrix in the bed. “Who is this?” In a few short steps, Kingsley covered the length of the hospital wing. He stared at Bellatrix for a few long moments, trying to place her. “Minerva?” 

“That is Bellatrix Black.” 

“Black? Not Lestrange?” 

“Miss Black appeared not two days ago, plucked out of 1968. She has no memory of her life after the 9th of May, 1968, which was the last month of her final year at Hogwarts. She has no memory of marrying Rodolphus Lestrange, or becoming a Death Eater, or Azkaban,” McGonagall explained in a cool tone. 

Hermione braced herself for the inevitable explosion that would come upon the revelation of their hiding of one of the most dangerous witches in Britain. 

But it never came.

“Time turner accident then?” 

“No,” Minerva explained the circumstances of Bellatrix’s arrival, of her reincarnation. 

Kingsley sank down onto one of the nearby beds, his head falling into his hands. “Minerva, Merlin, what do you expect me to do? It’s not as if she was insignificant between 1968 and 1998. I would say after Voldemort, her death would be the one most would celebrate. What do you expect me to do about this?” 

“That is why I have asked you to come.” 

Kingsley swept a hand towards Bellatrix. “Did you stupefy her or something? Why is she asleep?” 

“She’s been having fainting spells. According to Poppy, it is the result of ancient magic.” Hermione quirked an eyebrow at McGonagall’s omission of Pomfrey’s assessment of dark magic. If even the faintest hint of dark magic was sensed around Bellatrix, the Ministry would happily obliterate her. 

Neither of the adults in the room spoke for a long while until Kingsley said, “You’ve put me in a terrible position, Minerva.”

“I understand, Kingsley,” began McGonagall, her steady voice betrayed by the way her eyes darted towards Bellatrix’s prone figure. “Perhaps for now, it would be for the best if Miss Black remained here in secret. A leak to the public would only cause panic.” 

“A panic is the last thing we need at the moment.” Kingsley removed his glasses, revealing dark circles. “Do you know what kind of ‘ancient magic’ has afflicted her? Have you spoken with Albus?”

McGonagall shook her head. “I have consulted with Albus, which is how we determined that this was Miss Black. It’s still unclear exactly how she ended up here. Poppy is reaching out to a colleague of hers who specializes in dark and ancient magic at St. Mungo’s. Hopefully we will know more with their help.” 

The small part of Hermione’s mind that was solely focused on academic work couldn’t help but be thrilled by the potential of meeting an advanced healer. It was an area of research that Hermione had been intimately concerned with practically from the moment she met Harry Potter, but resources on the subject were few and far between. To have the opportunity to not only meet, but also observe a treatment would be amazing. 

The rest of her was highly concerned with the impending trouble of what Kingsley might do upon Bellatrix’s waking. 

(And she was certainly not thinking about the fact that she was still holding Bellatrix’s hand.) 

xx 

For what felt like the millionth time in the past few days, Bella was woken by the sensation of not being able to breathe. She clawed at her throat, her eyes still heavy from the darkness. 

The entirety of the time she was in darkness, it was as if she was falling. There were flashes. Flashes of faces that she didn’t recognize. Screams that felt as if they might tear at her skin. So much of it she didn’t recognize, except for one thing. Except for the crackling red light that had filled her nightmares longer than anything else. But it wasn’t the usual voice casting the curse. It almost sounded as if were her voice. 

“Bellatrix, you have to stop. You’re hurting yourself!” Someone finally managed to tear her hands away from her throat, half their body covering hers. “Bella!” 

Bella’s eyes flew open. 

Barely a wands-breadth away from her face was a pair of warm brown eyes, wide and terrified and again, so familiar. 

“Granger?” The other girl shifted slightly away from her, her fingers still tight around Bella’s wrist. “Granger,” she sighed with relief as she focused on the weight over her, letting it ground her. “Why’re you always staring at me?”

Granger rolled off of Bella, dropping her wrists as if Bella’s skin burned her. “You were trying to claw your own skin off.” Wordlessly, she summoned a mirror from the other side of the ward. 

Bella almost wished that this was the worst she had ever looked, bright red scars crisscrossing over her neck, but tragically, like most things in her life, it wasn’t. “Oh….” She traced a finger gingerly over the deepest mark where a thin bloody line had emerged. “What happened?” 

“You passed out again. Did you, you know, see anything maybe? The nurse thinks your fainting spells are linked to the black mark on your side.” Granger gestured to Bella’s damaged ribs. 

Bella blinked slowly, the edges of her vision still foggy. “I, hm, maybe. I’m not sure. Have you ever gone in a Pensieve?” Granger shook her head. “It was almost like that, but as if you were falling through it, rather than actually viewing a memory.” 

“What did you see?” 

Bella scrubbed a hand over her face roughly. “I-I-I don’t quite know. It was only flashes of things. Like faces I don’t recognize, but they seem familiar. And so, so much screaming.” Bella shuddered violently as a wave of cold crashed through her. To her surprise, Granger gingerly rubbed her arm as if to comfort her. “It was terrifying.”

“I’m sure, Le-Bellatrix. I can’t imagine it. How horrifying everything…” But Granger caught herself before she said anything further on the screams. Bella was so sick of the secrets, but Granger spoke before she could press the issue, “So you saw faces and heard screams? Could you make out any words?” Bella turned away from Granger, one word, in particular, echoing in her mind. “Bella, please.” The soft sound of her name, spoken in such gentle, caring way, caused her to turn back to Granger. “What did you hear? Anything could help you at this point.” 

“Not this word.” 

“Just tell me. It can’t be that bad.” 

Bella let out a high pitched laugh, her voice cracking on it. She purposefully chose to ignore the flinch that crossed Granger’s face. “Crucio.” At this, Granger all but lept away from her. Her skin went an ashy shade as her eyes widened in what Bella knew must be fear. 

Almost imperceptively, if not for the deathly silence of the hospital wing, Granger’s breath picked up. “Th-th-the Cruciatus curse?” 

“Yes,” Bella said shortly. “Only, it, it was the wrong voice.” 

“The wrong voice?”

Bella nodded. “It was my voice. Or I think it was. And there was so much light.”

Even more blood drained from Granger’s face as the girl moved towards the door, her hands trembling slightly. “I-I need to go speak to Professor McGonagall. There’s a healer coming from St. Mungo’s to check you and they’ll be coming through the Floo in her office so I’m sure we’ll be back soon. There’s, uh, feel free to read my book. I think you’d enjoy it.” Without another glance towards Bella, Granger took off like a fox fleeing a hound. 

Bella ignored the foreign ache in her ribcage as she pulled up the borrowed sweater to examine the bruise. A small gasp escaped her lips. It no longer looked like a bad Quidditch hit. No, now it stretched across her torso, as if reaching towards her heart. 

“What the actual Hades…?” 

Shaking her head a bit, she figured there was no point messing with it while she waited for the healer. 

“ _Gone With the Wind_ , oh great, I’m sure this will be the pinnacle of Muggle brilliance,” she scoffed, but opened the first page anyway. 

xx 

Hermione all but burst into the Headmistress’s office, her heart still pounding in her chest like a rabbit’s. 

“Hermione, is everything alright?” McGonagall was at her feet in an instant, moving quickly past Kingsley to catch Hermione’s arm before she stumbled over the stones. 

Hermione sucked in sharply. “I’m sorry, sorry for intruding like this, Professor, Minister.” 

Kingsley waved her apology away. “There is no need for such formality, Hermione.” 

Hermione nodded sharply, slightly shifting her weight away from McGonagall. “Uh, she’s awake.”

“Thank you for telling us so promptly, but you could’ve sent a Patronus or an elf.” McGonagall was still appraising her carefully as if searching for some hidden wound. “Are you sure you’re quite alright?” 

Hermione’s hands twisted into the sleeves of her sweater, tugging at any loose string she could find. “I asked her if she could recall anything. She said there were faces she didn’t recognize and screaming. Lots of screaming.” 

“Azkaban,” declared Kingsley, his voice low and solemn. “Within weeks, all the inmates can think to do is scream. It is truly a breeding ground for madness.” 

Hermione’s expression pinched and a brief tangent on prison reform floated to the forefront of her mind, but she pushed on. “She also said she could hear one word through all the screaming. _Crucio_. But, but she said that it was the ‘wrong voice’, that it was her voice. Do you think she could be remembering her life?” 

McGonagall shoved a bit of chocolate into Hermione’s hand. Where she got it from, Hermione had no clue, but nibbled at it nonetheless. 

“From what Minerva has told me, the Bellatrix who is currently in the hospital wing exists slightly outside of our reality as she is physically and mentally Bellatrix Black, but she exists after Bellatrix Lestrange’s death. Have you heard of the Muggle theory of past life regression or remembrance?” 

Hermione scoffed, “The sort of thing you’d see on late-night telly?”

Kingsley chuckled, “Precisely. Perhaps Miss Black is experiencing only brief moments or images from her later life rather than remembering its entirety.” 

“I suppose that’s possible. But it doesn’t explain why she keeps fainting.” Hermione conceded after finishing off her bit of chocolate. “The fainting and the flashes seem to be directly linked to the magic on her body.” 

“And her emotions, but I suppose Miss Black has always had a close relationship between her emotions and her magic,” McGonagall inserted, an almost wistful look on her lined face. 

“Is that,” Hermione began, but paused until McGonagall motioned for her to continue, “Is that why she went so mad and her magic became so corrupted?” 

“Perhaps. As Kingsley said, Azkaban breeds madness and Bellatrix, with her family history, would be at special risk for madness. The emotional connection with her magic would only worsen it. It is part of what makes her such a dangerous dueller, that she taps into instinct and emotion, rather than intellect as she fights. Rather like Mr. Potter, I’d say.” 

Kingsley hummed in acknowledgment, his gaze lingering on Snape’s portrait, which was conspicuously empty. “We still have the issue of what to do with her. Obviously we can’t reveal her to the public, but sooner or later people will recognize her.” 

“She does have a rather recognizable face,” Hermione said as images of bright eyes and wild hair flashed before her. 

“And most of the wizarding population has become intimately acquainted with it,” Kingsley continued, “Even if she is thirty some years younger and without the impact of Azkaban, I think many would make the connection.” 

“For now, I suggest she remains at Hogwarts. There will be few visitors at the castle for nearly four months, giving us further time to come up with a plan. Perhaps, if you would be amenable to it, Minister, you could send an Unspeakable to run further tests on Miss Black. If there’s a chance she can be returned to her time, I think that would be in everyone’s best interest.” 

As the two adults discussed the logistics of an Unspeakable at Hogwarts, Hermione couldn’t help the strange twinge in her chest at the idea of Bellatrix leaving. On the one hand, she was terrifying and her potential for violence and terror cast fear into Hermione’s heart. But on the other, all Hermione could see was a brilliant girl who had her potential snuffed out at seventeen. 

Even as she ruminated on Bellatrix’s potential innocence as she was now, that prickle of fear when Bellatrix had said _Crucio_ reappeared. There was no denying the deep wounds Lestrange had imprinted upon Hermione both physically and mentally and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be free of them. Everyone carrying scars from the war, but few were as emotionally taxing as the one carved into Hermione’s arm. 

To put it frankly, Hermione wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to separate the bright-eyed Bella from the manic Bellatrix. 

xx 

Bella was curled up on one of the beds in the hospital wing, waiting for the medi-witch to arrive. 

The magic along her torso felt like it was slowly eating away at her, corrupting her. 

Whoever this witch was, she hoped they could at least tell her what was happening. 

She had just been introduced to Rhett Butler and found him to be a rather infuriating character when the fireplace in front of her bloomed green flames. 

A witch emerged, shaking soot from her hair. 

The witch’s face was so familiar, just older than when Bella had last seen her. 

“Andy?” Bella’s voice cracked on her sister’s name. Everything in this time was so strange and unfamiliar to her: the broken castle, Headmistress McGonagall, screeching elves, the lot of it. So to see her most beloved sister’s face was a balm unlike any other. “Andy, it’s really you!” 

She launched at Andromeda, her book long forgotten. She wrapped her arms around her sister’s neck, burying her face there. Andromeda still wore the same perfume, even after all these years. It was as close to the smell of home as Bella ever would get. The soft notes of gardenia never ceased to settle Bella from even her most dangerous states. 

But it was gone too soon as Andromeda pushed her away, her eyes wide and wild. 

“Bellatrix!” Andromeda had never said her name with so much, with so much _hatred_. “Get away from me, you, you monster!” 

“Andy?” Bella’s lip trembled as she stared at her sister. “Andy, please…” 

“Stay back.” 

But Bella had never been very good at listening to directions and took a step towards her sister. “Andy, it’s me, it’s Trixie.” Bella stumbled back as Andromeda punched her, her wedding ring slicing across Bella’s left cheek. 

“Oh god,” Andromeda gasped, taking a step towards Bella, but Bella stumbled back, trying to fight the fog threatening to overtake her mind. 

Bella didn’t linger to hear what Andromeda had to say. She just took off running. She wasn’t even aware of where her feet took her until she collapsed at the top of the Astronomy Tower. Her chest ached painfully as if her heart was trying to escape her ribcage.

Something dropped onto her hand, shocking her slightly. She glanced down to find a dark droplet of blood on her pale skin. The moonlight made it almost luminescent. She brushed her fingers along her cheek as blood spilled from the cut along her cheek. 

It was too much. Too much. That Andy, her Andy would raise a hand to her. 

After everything Bella went through to protect her. 

Of course, Bella would do anything to protect both her sisters. But what she was doing and had done to save Andy. 

Did this mean she failed? 

It must be. She must have failed to protect her. 

The voices of two little girls came softly to Bella as she curled into a corner of the Astronomy Tower. 

_“Andy, can you hold Cissy for a while? You havta keep her sleeping.”_

_“Of course, Bella. Cissy loves me holding her.”_

_“You hold Cissy and stay quiet while I go down stairs and talk to Father.”_

_“Where’s Mother?”_

_“In the bottle, I’m sure. Don’t you worry, little bird, I’ll always keep you safe.”_

“I’ll always keep you safe. I’ll always keep you safe.” Bella kept repeating the words over and over to herself, rocking slightly as the cool night air cut through her sweater. “I’ll always keep you safe.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back bitches !! 
> 
> who knew a global pandemic is what i needed to get my ass in gear!! 
> 
> that last scene with andy was actually one of the first ones i wrote (there are actually like 5 different versions of it from various points) but this was my fave, so hope you guys liked it too and hoo boy the angst i've got for you... 
> 
> hoping to get the next chapter up in the next few days - it won't take as long as this one. 
> 
> come say hey @avasharpest on tumblr 
> 
> much love 
> 
> b


	7. honey, you're familiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alt. title: the black sisters need therapy asap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from hozier's "from eden" 
> 
> this is a different chapter seven then the one posted earlier in the week - this is completely different with some similarities

_ chapter seven.  _

_ honey, you're familiar.  _

Hermione fidgeted with her wand as she walked towards the hospital wing, absently tracking the various groves and scratches. At some point, she figured she’d need to get a new wand that wasn’t intrinsically connected to a dark witch, but Ollivander was still in St. Mungo’s recovering and Hermione wasn’t willing to settle for a lesser wandmaker. 

The walnut wand had been unresponsive at first, given that Ron had been the one to disarm Bellatrix. But Hermione seemed to have won it over with sheer willpower by the end of the Battle of Hogwarts. Ollivander had described it as unweilding. It certainly had served her well, despite her reservations about all the evil it had done. It was first and foremost incredibly powerful, practically radiating magic. Admittedly, Hermione’s knowledge of wandlore was limited, so she wasn’t sure if that was a result of Bellatrix’s power or the wand itself. 

The wand certainly made Hermione question the origins of Bellatrix’s seemingly inherent evilness. Bellatrix Black seemed like a spoiled, prejudiced brat, but she didn’t seem evil. More like Draco Malfoy. But the walnut wand was a dangerous warning of the potential Bellatrix had for darkness. In most folklore, the walnut tree was associated with witches of darkness and evil deeds. And while the use of a walnut wand can benefit a most intelligent witch, it can easily bend towards dark magic in the right hands. 

The Blacks seemed to ooze dark magic as Hermione could attest. Their properties and belongings were practically all cursed or dark. There was a deep seeded blood-prejudice that outpaced practically every other pureblood family. And yet, Hermione wasn’t sure if such sweeping conclusions were fair to the Blacks. 

Of course, Bellatrix Lestrange had been a homicidal sadist of the highest order, but Bellatrix Black didn’t seem to that extreme. Sirius had been good; he had been a Gryffindor, for God’s sake. Even Draco, despite his brattish behavior when they were younger, wasn’t  _ evil _ . He had done bad things, but he wasn’t evil. Narcissa Malfoy saved Harry and likely all of their lives a mere week ago. Tonks had been as far from evil as any person Hermione had ever met. And that left of course, “Mrs. Tonks?” Hermione yelped as she all but ran over the older witch. 

“Hermione! You must come at once! Where is Minerva? That, that  _ monster _ …” A harsh sob fell from Andromeda’s throat. “That monster, she, she was in the… in the…” 

“Okay, just breathe, Mrs. Tonks,” Hermione spoke softly, carefully moving to touch Andromeda. “Easy does it.” Andromeda inhaled shakily, her hands twitching at her side. “In and out. That’s it.” 

“We don’t have time for this. She’s loose in the castle!” 

“Mrs. Tonks-” 

“Hermione,” implored Andromeda, “That bitch is here!” 

“Mrs. Tonks!” Hermione winced as she raised her voice. “I’m sorry to raise my voice, but there’s something you should know. The person you saw isn’t Bellatrix Lestrange.” 

“Then what? What kind of sick joke is this?” Andromeda’s hand curled around Hermione’s left wrist, her nails biting into her skin. The word carved onto Hermione’s skin throbbed painfully. 

“It’s not a joke. I swear on my parents. It’s not.” 

“Explain,” Andromeda all but hissed. 

Hermione exhaled shakily. “She’s from 1968. She’s not Bellatrix Lestrange.” 

“1968? When in 1968?” Hermione hesitated and Andromeda’s nails dug deeper. “This is important, Miss Granger. When in 1968? Because there is a big difference between the spring and the fall of that year.” 

“May of 1968.” 

Andromeda relaxed back with a sigh. “How?” Her voice was barely above a croak. “How is this possible? Timeturner?” 

“It’s more complicated than a timeturner unfortunately. She is physically and mentally from May of 1968, but spiritually, I suppose, she is the person that was buried last week. Professor McGonagall has been trying to work out how it’s possible. But she is not displaced from time.” 

“Does she remember what she’s done? The horrors she’s committed, what she’s taken from me, from so many people.” Andromeda’s shoulders shook with a contained sob. 

Hermione had to fight back tears as the image of Remus and Tonks seemingly asleep in the Great Hall rose unbidden. “No. She only remembers up to the night of the ninth of May, 1968. A Quidditch party. Nothing after that.” 

Andromeda let out a half-sob, half-chuckle. “The Quidditch party. She went upstairs with that American girl, the radio star. She used to be so happy.” A wistful look crossed her face, even as silent tears tracked down her cheeks. “But how is she here? I don’t understand.” 

“I’m sorry, we don’t know.” 

“I thought it was all over,” mumbled Andromeda. “I thought it was finally over.” Years of anguish and devastation crossed Andromeda’s face. Hermione’s heart ached for Andromeda. She had held Harry as he cried after he spoke to Andromeda, but that didn’t prepare her for the devastation in Andromeda’s dark eyes. “I have tried to hate her for so long. The things she’s done. The things she’s done to me and my family….” With the haunted look in the older witch’s eyes, it was clear to Hermione that she wasn’t just speaking about Tonks’ death. “Why would she get a second chance? Why? When my, my Nymphadora won’t see her son grow up. When Ted died alone and afraid.” 

Hermione impulsively pulled Andromeda into a hug, desperate to comfort the older witch. “I’m so, so sorry.” Hermione struggled to find words, the pain of losing so many still so fresh. Every day since the second had felt as if the world should be collapsing in on itself. She couldn’t even imagine the pain Andromeda was experiencing. “You don’t have to do this.” 

Andromeda clung to Hermione as sobs racked her body. Hermione patted her back gently. Hermione could barely believe that any of this was happening, but she knew it was so much worse for Andromeda. She couldn’t even comprehend the pain of losing a child, of losing a husband. 

“I hit her. Oh sweet Merlin, I hit her.” Hermione barely managed to catch Andromeda as her knees buckled. “I hit her. She was bleeding. I’m no better, I’m as bad as  _ them _ .” 

Hermione felt that she had only scratched the surface of the trauma of the Blacks. This wasn’t just about the war and the Death Eaters and Voldemort. There were things buried so deep that they might never have come to the surface if it wasn’t for this bizarre bit of magic. 

“She was bleeding?” 

“She looked so hurt, like I betrayed her. I hit her. Oh Merlin.” 

“Andromeda, where is she now?” 

“She ran off. I hit her.” 

Hermione’s mind was racing. If Bellatrix managed to get out of Hogwarts, it would be pure chaos. It would be impossible to stop somebody from hurting her or capturing her or worse, killing her. That line of thought knocked the breath out of her chest. Did she care if Bellatrix got hurt? When did that happen? 

“I ought to send a message to Professor McGonagall to let her know.  _ Expecto patronus! _ ” A silvery otter burst forth from her wand. “Please tell Professor McGonagall that Mrs. Tonks is here and that Bellatrix is somewhere in the castle and we’ll find her, but it would be prudent to check the castle’s boundaries.” The otter nodded before bounding off. Hermione focused back on Andromeda, but her gaze was fixed on the wand in Hermione’s hand. “Mrs. Tonks?” 

“That wand. That’s her wand.” 

“Er, yes, it is.” 

“How?” 

“When we were held at Malfoy Manor,” Hermione swallowed audibly, phantom pains lingering in her body. “And then escaped, we took some wands. I had to take polyjuice potion to break into the Lestrange vault so I took Bellatrix’s.” 

“And it works for you?” 

“It does now.” Andromeda’s eyes widened. “It’s a stubborn and powerful wand.” 

“Ollivander described it as dangerously full of potential,” said Andromeda, almost in a trance. “I remember the day she bought that wand. It was the first wand she tried and finally, her magical outbursts stopped. Magic always came so easy to her.” Andromeda shook her head. “You don’t think she could’ve left the castle?” 

“I hope not. The wards around the castle are minimal at best still. They were completely broken and the auror department is struggling to keep up with all of the Death Eaters on the loose, so there hasn’t been a chance to rebuild them completely. Hopefully, McGonagall and Kingsley can get to them before she gets a chance. Would she have gone back to the Slytherin common room?” 

Andromeda pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know. I suppose. It’s what she knows.” 

Hermione nodded, grateful to have a purpose. “We’ll check there first then.” 

xx 

Bella clutched at herself, her nails biting into her skin painfully. It felt as if the world was pressing in on her. The darkness that kept overtaking her threatened the edges of her vision, but she fought against it. 

How could Andromeda, of all people,  _ hit  _ her? 

She called her a monster. She hated her. 

Her sweet Annie hated her. 

A sob was ripped from her throat, echoing around the empty tower. 

If Andy called her a monster, she must have been. 

Bella curled in on herself as tears poured down her cheeks. 

xx 

“Merlin, I haven’t been here in so long,” Andromeda said with wonder as the pair stepped into the Slytherin common room. 

Hermione glanced around the dungeon room. She much preferred the warmth of the Gryffindor common room, but she could see the appeal of the darkness and quiet. The common room had been left essentially as it had been after the Slytherins had collected their belongings, or in the case of those who sided with Voldemort, packed and shipped out by the elves to their homes. Only a few scattered bits of paper and books remained. 

Andromeda wandered over to the trophy case in one corner as Hermione looked around for any trace of Bellatrix. 

“Christ,” murmured Andromeda. Hermione whipped around, surprised to hear such a Muggle phrase from a witch. Andromeda chuckled wetly at the reaction. “I lived with a Muggleborn for almost thirty years, Hermione.” Hermione managed a smile. “I had forgotten what she used to look like.” 

“Bellatrix?” Hermione asked as she joined Andromeda at the cabinet. Andromeda pointed to a photo framed in silver. Sure enough, there was Bellatrix as she had appeared days ago, but rather than seeming terrified or angry, she just had a smile on her face. The photo Bellatrix had her arms wrapped around two taller boys while the rest of the Quidditch team cheered around them, one of them holding up the Quidditch Cup. The expression on Bellatrix’s face, it was that same prideful, knowing smirk that she associated with Sirius. 

“This was from her seventh year. Probably the last time Bellatrix was genuinely happy.” Hermione twisted to look at Andromeda. Her mind was quickly filled with memories of Bellatrix Lestrange shrieking with glee as she taunted Neville and ecstatic screams of ‘I killed Sirius Black!’. She practically had to shake herself to rid herself of those memories. “I mean, the last time Bellatrix Black was happy. Whatever she did later, those things.” A shudder passed through Andromeda’s body. 

“We ought to keep looking for her. Where there any places she might have gone if she was upset?” They had only started with the Slytherin common room in hopes that Bellatrix may have returned there. 

Andromeda closed her eyes. “The Astronomy Tower. She’s probably in the Astronomy Tower. She used to spend hours up there when everything with- when everything got too much.” 

xx 

Bella lay on her back, still trying to regulate her breathing and her heartbeat. Her chest ached painfully to the point it felt like she couldn’t breathe. 

Thankfully, the stars didn’t change just because it was 1998. A long habit of hers had been to find as many constellations as she could. It gave her something to focus on. 

She traced the shape of Corvus, counting each star carefully. Cygnus was close by. Bella had always thought it was fitting that the crow, a symbol of bad luck and death, was so near to Cygnus, a symbol of darkness for her entire life. 

He must be long dead by now. He couldn’t touch her. He couldn’t hurt her. 

But just thinking of him caused the panic to rise in her chest again. 

She could only barely make out Perseus, it having moved away almost a month ago. She probably was almost imagining the stars to be there. It was always one of her favorites along with its pair, Andromeda. 

But as she located where the stars should be, Andromeda’s words echoed in her mind and her cheek throbbed painfully. It was as if all her breath had been stolen and her ribcage was about to crack. 

“I’ll always keep you safe. I’ll always keep you safe.” The words she had repeated for as long as she could remember were the only thing keeping her some semblance of grounded. “I’ll always keep you safe.” 

She must have started crying again at one point as the wind cut across her wet cheeks. 

The words became slowly jumbled and broken as she sobbed once more. 

“Always keep you safe. Always.” 

At the sound of footsteps, she tried to move behind the cabinet she used to hide in, but apparently somebody had redecorated in the past thirty years. She reached for her wand, but realized she must have left it in the hospital wing. Biting back a curse, she turned to face whoever had found her. 

“Annie?” She hated how weak she sounded. She was the strong one. She wasn’t weak. 

“Trixie...” Andromeda spoke softly, almost as if she expected Bella to explode. She took a few steps forward, but Bella backed away quickly. The cut on her cheek pulsed. As Andromeda stepped forward, a beam of moonlight fell on her face, revealing wet tracks on her cheeks. 

The lines on her face shocked Bella to her very core. She looked like Andromeda, particularly in the eyes, but she seemed tired and aged beyond what Bella could comprehend. 

“‘Trix, let me see your cheek.” 

Andromeda slowly reached out with one hand, moving as if she was approaching a feral animal. Bella flinched away. 

“Bella, please, you’re bleeding.” 

That sparked something within Bella. “Because you hit me! We promised never to hurt each other!”

Fury and an emotion Bella didn’t recognize rose in Andromeda’s face. “Do not speak to me about hurting each other, Bellatrix!” But before Bella could respond, Andromeda inhaled sharply, seemingly coming to peace with herself. “Trixie, please just let me help you. I know you’re scared. Just let me at least heal your cheek.” When Bella didn’t move, Andromeda drew her wand. “Why don’t we sit down?” The pair settled on the floor. Andromeda gently cupped Bella’s chin, turning her face to examine the cut. “What’s the last thing you remember from 1968?” 

“A Quidditch match, I hurt my ribs because of my moronic beater. We had a party. I went upstairs with Elnora Hawke. You disapproved. That’s it. And then I was here.” Bella focused less on her words and more on examining her sister before her. 

She looked...old. It was too strange. Lines creased around her eyes and mouth that weren’t there before. But even more than that, there was so much sadness and pain in her dark eyes that Bella had never seen. Andromeda had always been so thoughtful and careful, while Bellatrix had been reckless and foolish. 

“How did I die?” 

Andromeda’s reaction was more than telling. She gasped, then immediately looked away from Bella. “I don’t know.” 

“You’re lying. I can always tell when you’re lying, Annie.” Bella twisted to try to meet her sister’s eyes. “Andromeda, please, no one will tell me anything. What has happened?” When Andromeda remained silent, Bella let out an irritated hiss. “This is all dragon shit. I don’t want to be here! I don’t want to sit around while everybody lies and twists everything around me. I’d rather be back in my last year of Hogwarts than sitting around with a fucking mudblood watching my other move!” Andromeda’s lips formed a tight line that was all Druella and far too close for Bella’s comfort. “What, Andy? That mudblood has been on me since I got here. I don’t even know her. She should know to respect her betters. Ah, Andy!” Andromeda’s fingers tightened around her wrist.

“That is enough, Bellatrix.” 

Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed in frustration. “What happened to you? Last week, I saw you laughing along with Jen King when that mudblood boy fell down the stairs. That dopey Hufflepuff.” 

“Enough, Bellatrix. The world is different.” 

“Clearly,” mumbled Bella, almost disturbed by the vehemence in her sister’s voice. 

“Trixie, shut up.” 

Bella swallowed down the lump that was starting to form in her throat. She watched her sister as she murmured the spells, focusing on her eyes. In anyone else, she wouldn’t have noticed, but she knew Andromeda better than she knew herself. Or at least she used to. But there were tears in Andromeda’s eyes and as always, that broke Bella’s heart. 

So she sat dutifully silent. 

“There. Try not to touch your face for the next hour or so, but it won’t scar.” 

“Thank you, Andy.” 

Andromeda patted her cheek. “It’s been a long time since I had to patch you up.” 

“Probably for the best.” She tried to smile, but she was sure it appeared more like a grimace. “I don’t know what’s happened between us in the past thirty years, but I am so glad to see you. Everything, everything since I woke up here has been so strange and unfamiliar. No one will tell me anything. McGonagall is trying to figure everything out and then, did you know Aunt Walburga’s elf works here? Kreacher, the nutty one?”

A crease formed in Andromeda’s brow. “The one who wanted his head put on the wall?” 

“That’s the one. He works in the kitchen. Threw himself at my feet, wailing about not betraying the Blacks and blood traitors and mixed breed pups.” Bella chuckled at that. But Andromeda remained stonefaced. “I tried to talk to him, but  _ they  _ wouldn’t let me.” 

“Sometimes it’s better not to know, Trix.” 

Bella rolled her eyes. Andromeda was just always so careful. “I suppose the elf has always been nutty, but really, blood traitors? And Sirius and Reggie are both dead? Are they actually dead or did they do something idiotic like marry filth?” 

“Christ, Bellatrix. You just don’t stop do you?” Andromeda stood abruptly to her feet. 

Bella lept to her feet. “Christ, Andromeda?” She sneered mockingly. “What are you the blood traitor? Saying filth like that?” At 16, the Andromeda Bella knew would’ve backed down, trying to make peace with her sister. Apparently, the older Andromeda didn’t care for that as she advanced threateningly towards Bella. 

“Yes,  _ Trixie _ ,” she snarled, spitting out the childhood nickname like poison, “I’m the blood traitor.” 

Bella’s eyes went as wide as teacups, her heart dropping into the floor. Not her sister. She wouldn’t do that. What would their parents think of that? How was Andromeda still alive? “No, no, no.” 

“Oh yes,” Andromeda was mere centimeters away from her face as she spoke, “I married a Muggleborn. I’ve lived with a Muggleborn for almost thirty years. I had a child with a Muggleborn. Am I filth to you, Bellatrix?” It was as if Andromeda had torn her heart out of her chest. Bella was giving up everything for Andy. She was giving up her future, her freedom and Andy threw it all away for a mudblood? 

“You’re lying.” 

“I swear on, on,” Andromeda’s voice cracked painfully, “my daughter that I am not. I would never lie about this, Bellatrix.” 

“How could you?” 

“How could I be happy? How couldn’t I be happy away from the Blacks? Away from you and our father?” 

This is what Bella had always feared. Was she going to become her father? He had long been afflicted by a cruel madness. He was a sick bastard who loved nothing more than inflicting pain. 

“From me, Annie?” Bella curled back on herself, her eyes filling with tears. The oppressive blackness from before started pushing in on her vision. The screams started up again. “No! No! Get out of my head!” Bella clawed at her hair, trying to fight off the darkness. 

Andromeda’s eyes went wide and she stepped back quickly, assessing the situation in front of her. As Bella stumbled, Andromeda stepped forward to catch her. Andromeda cradled her in her arms, guiding them to the ground again. “ _ Reste avec moi, Trixie. Je suis ici. Je suis ici. Tu es en sécurité. Je te promets que tu es en sécurité.  _ (Stay with me, Trixie. I’m here. I’m here. You’re safe. I promise you’re safe).” Andromeda smoothed her fingers through Bella’s wild curls, moving on muscle memory alone. “Look at the stars, Trixie. Just look at the stars.” 

Bella desperately tried to find the stars, but the darkness kept coming. She tried to focus on the feeling of Andy holding her. It was all she wanted for the past few days, but Andy… Andy… 

“What’s going on?” Granger burst into the room, her wand in her hand. The girl was hazy, a mere figure in dark clothes, but it gave something for Bella to focus on. “Andromeda?” 

“Come here, I need you to help me stabilize her magical core.” Andromeda motioned for Granger to join her. The girl dropped to her knees, knocking into Bella slightly. 

Spots kept appearing in her vision and a bone deep cold settled in her bones. “S-s-so cold.” 

A look passed between Granger and Andy that Bella couldn’t understand in her state. 

They were speaking, but Bella couldn’t hear. There was so much screaming in her head. 

Then there was light around her body and she was floating, how long was she floating for? Hours, days? It felt like it would never end. 

And then there was darkness, but it wasn’t as oppressive anymore. It was more like a tight hug. Or the warmth when she and Andy built a blanket fort in the wardrobe, hiding from their father. Safe, warm, loved. 

“Bellatrix?” A soft, sweet voice was calling to her. She blinked slowly, light pouring into her vision. There was Granger, just like always, right next to her. “Hey there, just keep getting your eyes open. Almost there.” 

Granger was perhaps the most frustrating person she had ever met, but in that moment, Bella was so grateful for her. “‘Ranger, what happened?” 

“We had to stabilize your magical core. There’s some ancient magic attached to you.” 

“Annie?” 

Granger averted her eyes, which was all too telling. Bella may not remember the last thirty years, but she remembered the fight with her sister. “She had things to take care of at home.” 

“With her mudblood?” To her credit, Granger didn’t even flinch. 

“Bellatrix, both Andromeda’s husband and daughter are dead. She’s taking care of her grandson.” Bella’s stomach dropped. “She’ll be back in the next few days to look further into what’s happening to you. She’s the top of her field. She’ll figure it out.” 

Bella scoffed, “You don’t need to tell me my sister is brilliant. I know that, Granger.” Granger rolled her eyes. “I saw that disrespect, Granger.” 

“Yeah, what are you gonna do about it, Black?” Granger said with a chuckle, settling back in her chair with a book. 

“What’re you reading?” 

“Advanced Transfigurations Applications in Charm Building.” 

“Read it to me?” Bella hated how small she sounded, but she needed something not in her head. 

“Sure,” said Granger, flipping to the beginning of the book, “To understand any advanced magic, one must first look to the fundamentals of magic. Firstly, the external and internal magics…” 

“You have a nice voice, Granger.” 

“Just rest, Bella.” 

“‘s the first time you called me Bella, Granger. I think you like me.” 

“Don’t get used to it, Black.” 

But when Bella looked over at the other girl, she had a soft, almost fond smile on her lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah, Hermione's getting softer with Bella - more will be explained next chapter this was just getting too long. 
> 
> Bella and Andy genuinely need therapy, but at least someone's started telling Bella something?? 
> 
> overall, everybody's having an excellent time, right? right? 
> 
> just again, in case you're confused, this chapter is different from the first chapter seven that was posted and then deleted within 12 hours, for some reason this chapter was kicking my ass, but we got there in the end 
> 
> i may be coming out with another bellamione fic somewhat soon that's the incredible cliche of dark!Hermione bc that's my fave, but we shall see 
> 
> as always, love to hear from you guys here or at avasharpest on Tumblr 
> 
> much love 
> 
> b


	8. a brush with the devil can clear your mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from mumford and sons' "whisper in the dark"

_ chapter eight.  _

_ a brush with the devil can clear your mind _

Hermione watched, entranced, as Bellatrix worked on a complex equation on a chalkboard. Almost two days had passed since Bellatrix’s collapse and Andromeda’s appearance. Andromeda had not returned yet as Teddy had come down with some sort of flu. After long deliberations between Professor McGonagall and Kingsley with some input from Hermione, they were allowing Bellatrix to assist Hermione on the theoretical basis for the new wards around Hogwarts. The only caveat was that she must remain with Hermione if there was going to be any magic. 

And so, Hermione and Bellatrix were holed up in a spare transfiguration classroom, Hermione flipping through a few of her books while Bellatrix wrote out some equations. 

However, Hermione kept getting somewhat distracted by Bellatrix. She had never met someone else her age who was as studious as she was. And the way Bellatrix had tied her hair up with her wand after levitating her books around her so she could write was particularly distracting and something Hermione did not want to investigate further. 

Then Bellatrix twisted a hip to look at Hermione over her shoulder. She smirked at Hermione, one eyebrow quirking up mischievously. “Are you staring at my ass again, Granger?” 

“No, I was just checking your work. You flipped the 8 and the 6 in your Ozling equation.” 

She quickly turned back to her books to hide the blush on her cheeks. She hadn’t been staring at Bellatrix’s ass. Her hair, maybe, but certainly not her ass. She wasn’t interested in girls. And Ron! She had Ron, of course. 

(It’s not like Bellatrix even had a nice ass. Especially not when it was in a pair of Hermione’s jeans that had been sized to fit her perfectly. That would be dumb.) 

Bellatrix let out a grunt of irritation as she squinted at her work. 

It was just incredibly irritating that Hermione was so fascinated with Bellatrix. That was the right word for it. Fascinated. She just wanted to understand her and how she worked. Andromeda had provided the beginnings of understandings, but there was still a long way to go. 

xx 

_ Two days earlier…  _

Hermione wiped at her brow as she focused on stabilizing Bellatrix’s core so that Andromeda could work. Bellatrix whimpered and twitched on the ground, her face screwed up in anguish. Andromeda muttered as her wand weaved over Bellatrix. 

After what felt like ages, Andromeda stopped and the strain on Bellatrix’s magical core settled. Bellatrix herself also settled down, the line between her brows fading away. Andromeda cast one final spell, dark blue sparks falling from her wand to fade away on Bellatrix’s cheek. 

“There, that should help her sleep for a bit without nightmares.” 

Hermione rocked back onto her heels. Stabilizing a magical core was something she had only read about in theory. The summer before she had read up on all forms of magical healing, but most of it had been focused on triage. Magical core issues were exceedingly rare, occurring only during dark spells of the most extreme order. However, given the purpose of their travels over the last year, it had seemed prudent. 

“Do you have any idea what could be affecting her?” Hermione asked as she and Andromeda gently levitated Bellatrix’s sleeping body. 

“It’s all twisted. Like there’s a block. I’ve treated so many dark curses over the years, but this, it almost doesn’t feel dark. It’s more, as Poppy said, ancient.” Andromeda remained silent for the rest of the journey to the hospital wing, mulling over the magic that was afflicting her sister. Once Bellatrix was settled, Andromeda collapsed back into a chair, looking far older than her years. 

Hermione tugged the thin blanket over Bellatrix, a strange feeling of protectiveness taking root in her chest. 

“She married him for me, you know?” Andromeda’s voice came softly in the quiet of the night. She started to reach for one of Bellatrix’s hands but then thought better of it. 

“Lestrange?” 

“Rodolphus was a creep and a monster of the highest order. His brother, Rabastan, was in between our years. Quieter than his brother, but he also presented traits of sadism. Rodolphus was three years above Bella. The Lestranges had developed a reputation over the earliest twentieth century that left them somewhat out in the cold politically speaking. So it was well known that Augustine Lestrange wanted to make good matches for his sons. Our father was interested in the Lestrange wealth more than anything.” 

“I’ve seen the inside of their vault. It’s impressive, to say the least.” 

Andromeda shot her a strange look, but continued with her tale, “Bellatrix was, for lack of a better word, too clever for her own good. Our father hated her for the fact that she wasn’t a son and Bella was rebellious and strong. By the time she was 15, it was the worst kept secret in pureblood circles that Bella preferred witches.” Hermione fought to keep a straight face as her cheeks burned. “This lowered her marriage prospects and Bella constantly threatened to run off to America to study. Augustine Lestrange was obsessed with the Black power, my father was obsessed with their money and Rodolphus knew this. He came onto Bella at a ball and she rebuffed him. Rodolphus was furious. Bella humiliated him in front of most of the Twenty-Eight. Lucretia Prewett practically beat him over the head with her handbag after Bella called him out.” 

“How did they end up married? If she humiliated him? Where do you fit in?” 

Andromeda chuckled, a half sob bubbling up from her chest. “I’m getting to it. Bella rejected Rodolphus and I didn’t see her for a week. Our father punished her, more than me or Narcissa, but that was one of the worst times. For months, there was nothing from the Lestranges. No offers for Bella or any of us. And then, Rodolphus Lestrange, he,” Andromeda paused, a shudder of old memories surfacing, “he showed up at the house when I was 15. Bella must have been 16. She never told me…” Andromeda brushed her fingers along one of Bellatrix’s hands. 

“Never told you?” prompted Hermione as Andromeda fell deep into her memories as she stared at her sister’s prone form. 

Andromeda started slightly, her gaze darting back up to Hermione. “She never told me what my father said to her. Nor what Rodolphus said to her when they spoke alone. But there was very little that scared my sister, Hermione. And something scared her that day.” 

“I still don’t understand, she married him for you? No offense, Mrs. Tonks, but I struggle to believe that anyone could make her do something she didn’t want to do?” The witch that Hermione had fought against was nothing short of a force of nature, even the teenaged version Hermione was staring at now wasn’t exactly weak. 

“You’ve met my other sister, yes?” 

“Draco’s mum? A couple of times from a distance.” 

“And her husband?” The corner of Hermione’s mouth twitched up as she nodded. “The Malfoys are a unique case in their social circle. They actually love each other, even before they were engaged, they were,” Andromeda hesitated, a slight sneer crossing her face and making her look disturbingly like Narcissa Malfoy. “Amongst the upper levels of pureblood society, especially with families like the Blacks, who are obsessed with purity.  _ Toujour pur _ and all that. All marriages are arranged. If you happen to slightly tolerate your spouse, you were one of the lucky ones. The rest, well, as long as you had a few sons, your life would probably be tolerable, at best. Pureblood girls, therefore, have little to no rights beyond what their father and then husband give them, at least amongst the most traditional families.” 

“So your father forced her to do it?” 

“Worse than that, I think that my father and Lestrange threatened Bella that if she didn’t marry Rodolphus, I would be forced to marry Rodolphus. Bella never spoke much of it, but she stopped fighting so much after that. She would just smile a bit and say, ‘everything will be alright’. There were moments where I thought she would run, just disappear. But she didn’t. She stayed and married Rodolphus.” 

Hermione’s heart ached at the thought of a 16-year-old Bella trying desperately to save her little sister from Rodolphus Lestrange. That photo from the Daily Prophet lingered in her minds’ eye as she glanced down at Bellatrix, who looked so much smaller than the woman who haunted Hermione’s nightmares. 

“She stayed and became what she became. I got to run away and have my life, away from the Blacks and the pureblood bigotry. I got to marry the love of my life and...and...my Nymphadora….” 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Tonks-” 

“Andromeda.” 

“Sorry, Andromeda, we don’t need to talk anymore about this. I don’t mean to upset you.” 

“Just old, painful memories, that’s all, Hermione. Maybe now I’ll finally have some answers. The last time I spoke to my sister was the day I married Ted.” Andromeda sniffed, her gaze falling to Bellatrix’s face once more. “I ought to go speak with the Headmistress and Minister. Will you keep an eye on her?” 

“Of course.” 

xx 

_ Present day…  _

“Hey Granger,” Bella spun on her heel as she spoke, facing towards the other girl. “Will you tell me how I died?” The way Granger’s mouth dropped open was nothing short of comical. This was part of Bella’s overall plan to figure out what had happened to her. If she managed to just catch someone off guard, they’d be more likely to tell her. The next phase, if this one didn’t work out, would involve a bit more threatening. Hopefully she wouldn’t need to go that far, but it would liven up her days. 

Granger’s mouth hung open for one, two beats before she shook her head. “No, um, I’m sorry, Bellatrix, I can’t do that.” 

Bella sauntered over to the desk Granger was working on. She perched herself on the one in front, mindful of the way Granger’s gaze lingered momentarily on her chest before snapping back up to her face. “Explain that one to me, Mud-Granger,” she corrected herself with a self-deprecating grin. 

“No, Black.” Granger turned back to the pile of papers she was working on. “Now leave me alone.” 

Bella leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Oh, c’mon, Granger, what harm could it do? You heard the old cat, I’m the same me from 1998, and I’m not going back to where I’m from, so it’s not like I could mess up the timeline or anything.” Granger lifted her gaze and there was something Bella didn’t recognize. Was it pity? What could Granger possibly pity her for? 

“I said no, Black, don’t push me.” Bella kicked out at Granger’s desk, taking some pleasure when some of her papers floated to the ground. “God, you’re terrible.” 

“So I’ve heard. You could just tell me and I’ll leave you to your books and papers.” 

“I said no. Professor McGonagall and Kingsley don’t think you should learn about your life after. There’s no point. You can live your life differently.” 

“Wouldn’t you want to know how you’d die?” 

“No.” Granger twisted in her seat so her back was to Bella, a book already in hand. “Leave me alone, Black.” 

“Granger, please. The way I see it, I can just avoid doing whatever I did originally so then I won’t die so embarrassingly early. I mean, come on, a witch of my skill dying in my fifties. That’s pathetic. If it was a strain of dragon pox or something, I’ll just find the cure before then.” 

Granger mumbled something under her breath, but all Bella heard was “unlikely” and “war”. 

“Merlin, you’re a pain.” Bella reached forward, grabbing one of Hermione’s arms to spin her around. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude not to look someone in the eye when they’re speaking to you, mud-” Before Bella could finish, a large blast of magical energy tossed her into the professor’s desk, her already bruised side colliding painfully with the corner. She bit out a curse as she rolled on to her back. 

Granger stood on her feet, wand in hand. “Touch me again, Black, and you won’t need to be concerned with how you previously died.” She regarded Bella with dark eyes, magic almost crackling off of her skin. She opened her mouth and for a moment, Bella was sure Granger would curse her. But the other girl sighed and turned on her heel to leave. 

Bella groaned, hauling herself to her feet. There was something seriously wrong with that girl. She radiated power and anger and she clearly hated Bella. Something that wasn’t unusual it seemed in this year. 

McGonagall, her long time mentor, the only one who had bothered to see beneath the veneer of pure blood respectability, could barely look at her without flinching. She watched Bella like she expected her to toss out a curse at any moment. 

And Granger, some Hades damned mudblood, kept cursing her. 

Bella’s mind slipped towards her sister. Her sweet, sweet Andy, the girl who hid broken birds beneath her bed, who had patched up every injury since they were small, had hit her. Andy hated her for some reason. And Andy married a mudblood? How could she? After everything Bella went through, Andy betrayed them all. Andy betrayed her. 

A drop of water fell to her shoes. Bella swiped at her cheeks. Hot tears dripped down her face. “No, no, no,” she hissed, furious with herself. “No, you’re pathetic. You’re weak. Stop this.” 

Bella doubled over as pain shot through her. Her nails bit into her palms until she could feel blood bead on her fingers. She deserved to hurt. 

_ “You have to really mean it!”  _ A voice echoed in her mind as a familiar pain coursed through her body. Bella tried to fight against the pain, but as always, it was useless. But this felt different. It wasn’t her father’s magic. It was worse.  _ “Pathetic child. You are weak. Useless.”  _ Pain, it was always pain.  _ “You are nothing, Bellatrix. But not to worry, I will build you anew.”  _ The voice hissed at her, deep in her mind. 

A dark room, a pale hand, green lights blending with red lights. 

Bella fought desperately to stay conscious. She was stronger than this. She had to be. 

Every muscle seized, forcing her to her knees. 

A pale face flashed before her eyes. 

“Enough!” Bella screamed, her voice breaking on the last syllable as the noise finally stopped. Propping herself up against the desk, she dropped her head back, ignoring the throbbing in her head. “Sweet Morgana.” 

“You’re bleeding.” 

Bella lifted her gaze. “Oh, you’re back.” 

“You’re bleeding.” 

“Intelligent as always, Granger.” Bella managed a sneer, blood dripping from her nose. “Stay away from me.” Granger watched her struggle to her feet with pity. “I don’t need your help.” 

Granger scoffed, “Of course, that’s why you lost a fight with a desk.” 

“You’re the one who threw me into it!” 

“You shouldn’t touch people without their permission.” 

“Why, scared you’ll like it?” Bella ignored the tremble in her knees as she sauntered towards Granger. The look of contempt that passed over Granger’s features was nothing short of delightful. Contempt, that she could work with. None of this pity nonsense. 

Fear and hatred would have to do in this world. She was all alone with no support. No use looking for affection that wasn’t there.

But teasing Granger, that could be a fun pastime. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i'm finally done with all my schoolwork and have now officially graduated from undergrad! sorry this chapter is a lot of exposition, but it's sort of to get from point a to point b. next chapter will be more action, etc. 
> 
> much love

**Author's Note:**

> hope you all enjoyed! hoping to get on a semi-regular schedule for this and get it all out there quickly! 
> 
> lmk what you thought! 
> 
> also being cross posted on ffn 
> 
> much love 
> 
> xx  
> b


End file.
